They’d been discovered on an iceberg, floating along, happily minding their own business. Claudette often wondered who was the first person to gaze upon the gargantuan snails and think ‘I wonder what would happen if I stuck my face in their trail?’ With a sad inevitability, someone had and discovered the incredible rejuvenating properties of those trails, glittering with ice crystals, just begging to be admired and collected. ‘Age at a snail’s pace’ had become the slogan on everyone’s lips. The inoffensive creatures, eight in all, each the size of a mountain, had been dragged unceremoniously on their iceberg and confined to a penned area. Gunboats patrolled constantly and only a handful of personnel were allowed onto the berg to gather the trails. There was also Claudette. She’d been tucked away in a basement office, collating information about the snails of the world. Like the enormous beasts, she’d wanted nothing more than to be left along, sailing along happily on ...