Disclaimer: Not mine, .

Summary: Baby Clark to a strange land.

Strange Land

The being in front of him bares its teeth at him. He mimics it and it seems to like it - it makes a funny noise and gives him something. He turns it round in his hands curiously. It small and hard and crumbles when he rubs it too hard, like the red rocks in the garden at home do. The small bits that rub off it are rough and stick to his hand. He brings it close up to his face and sniffs it curiously. It smells like nothing he ever smelt before. He flicks his tongue out to taste it, glances quickly at the being watching him. It and the other have funny ideas about what can be eaten and what not but they're usually right and he's learned to watch them. It's hard to tell what they mean sometimes. But he's learning.

This time it bares its teeth again and stretches its lips in a funny way, so apparently it's okay. He repeats the twisting expression and turns back to the little hard thing in his hand. It's warm from being held and the hand holding it is even and slightly unpleasant.

He tries another lick, stronger this time and scrunches his face up, considering the taste. It hangs in his mouth, weird, not unpleasant but not pleasant either. He dares another.

It's not bad. Not like that long, yellow thing the beings had given him and expected him to eat. It had been soft and squishy in his mouth and made his tongue dry up and his lips pucker. He'd flung it away and it had gone squish against one of the many walls of the beings dwelling and stuck there like a on the prowl. He'd giggled, delighted, and the bigger being had made loud noises and the smaller one had hurried over and clutched him to it, pushing him into its soft skin until his own crawled with the strangeness of it, while it made soft noises and rubbed its' hand over his head.

This is better.

He nibbles on a corner of the hard thing and it breaks off against his teeth. Startled he swallows it and the being makes noises he's learned mean it's pleased. He holds the food out and eyes it . It isn't as nice as -lee, like Nan-El grew, or as good as the dark, crumbly stuff in sacks he tried to eat when he first came here. The being in front of him and the other had made loud noises and snatched it away from him. They hadn't liked that he'd eaten it, but it had tasted wonderful.

He puts the rest of the hard thing into his mouth and chews. It's nice. Nicer than the dark `' had been when he'd sneaked some more of it. He hasn't tried it again.

He swallows and makes the face twist up at the being, makes it back. It bends down and picks him up and he's got used to this as well as it holds him against it, body strangely cool against his.

It presses its lips against his forehead, leaving a wet patch which tingles strangely as it always does when this bizarre ritual is performed. He doesn't understand its purpose, but he's learning.

He leans his head against her shoulder and watches the strange picture move as they pass.