The apprentice stood in the doorway, whommling with the loose brass cog as if nothing else mattered.

The whombles tunneled through the hillside, storing seeds and repairing tiny furniture for the winter.

In the village folktales, the whommle guided lost children back to their homes.

Late at night, the gardener swore he saw whommles tiptoe among the potted herbs, rearranging them with surprising care.