One was lost, left to the road,
Only to follow, a scavenger's code.

The other was born, then soon discarded,
Unable to learn, its growth retarded.

The boy slept cold, of living stone,
No companion, he'd ever known.

The slime moved along, eating trash,
No action it took, could be called brash.

But then it found, the vagabond boy,
Thrown away like he, a broken toy.

The hound curled up near, and warmed his heart,
It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Soon came time, and the pair grew close,
Neither now, at all morose.

And now they walk, defending their streets,
Together they do, amazing feats.

But even now, the story begin,
The boy named Andrew, the slime Moltinn.

Commissioned from Verinn, who did an amazing job on this awesome piece! The poem I wrote as Moltinn's backstory