There were small standing puddles on its surface.
It didn’t move. Nothing on its surface moved.
“But it’s just goo,” Leeloo said.
Then a high-pitched sound filtered down from the forest above. Because it was intermittent, Ryan didn’t recognize it as singing at first.
But it was.
A familiar bell-like soprano drifted through the dense trees along the ridgeline, and it grew stronger and more distinct: ‘”Baby, baby, it’s a wild world…'”
The companions strained to hear, barely breathing, until it faded to silence.