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You've noticed that things have been going missing for the last few days. Little things, mostly. Spoons. Lightbulbs. Maybe that pet rock you were particularly fond of. There's also been more rattling in the vents than usual. Today, you wander into the engine room for whatever reason and find that a child is in there, huddled in a far corner.

This child looks to be twelve, maybe fourteen at the most. Red hair, red eyes. Very thin. His face is scratched up and in various stages of healing. He's bleeding around the mouth a little. His arms look scratched up, under loose, dirty bandages. His clothes are worse for wear. He looks like he might be eating spare parts for the engine, which is pretty strange. He picks a small wrench up, pops it into his mouth, and presumably swallows it--as it disappears.

Further investigation might reveal a soft, absent-minded, telekinetic humming in your head. How odd.

A boy of similar description is on the surface of one of the three moons, but he is having a frightful time trying to get across a busy street. People don't seem to notice him so much, and he seems terrified to touch anyone--darting nervously around legs and trying not to make any noise.

He looks to be in bad shape. Attentive people might notice a soft whimpering noise being projected into their minds.

There's a pile of mice. Wherever they are, they seem very confused, all trying to climb clumsily on top of each other. There are about a boy-sized amount of them, isn't that odd? Gosh. Who the heck left all these rodents here.