The fading day trickled down through the thick canopy, painting the jungle in striations of shadow. Zogrusz wandered through a maze of gnarled trunks and knotted roots, his head brushing branches heavy with blue-veined leaves and pendulous red fruit. He sensed tiny creatures huddled in dens and burrows watching him in mute terror as he passed, while the larger animals hastened away as he approached, unwilling to challenge what they did not know. The raucous sounds he’d heard from above had quieted after his descent, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Still, the smells and colors and even the humidity that sheathed his skin and the hissing crackle of the detritus beneath his feet were all overwhelming after so many barren worlds and the stark silence of the black between the stars.

But he found nothing to sate his hunger. He tried – he plucked a swollen fruit and swallowed it whole. Then he plunged his claws into a towering nest of insects and ate as many of the scurrying multitudes as he could catch. He even shoved his head into a stagnant pond and sucked in great mouthfuls of the murky water, wriggling fish and cold mud sliding down his throat to settle in his stomach.

The ache did not diminish. If anything, it grew stronger, and Zogrusz was forced to steady himself by sinking his claws into the bark of the trees as he passed to keep from sprawling among the roots.

He was dying.

This realization brought a welter of new emotions – anger, outrage, indignation. Was this his fate? To be vomited forth by the universe, only to slowly wither away? Even the wilting flowers clinging to the vines that wrapped these trees had some purpose – with their deaths the seeds of the next generation would be spread, their legacy assured. What would happen when he finally collapsed here in the forest? His would have been a meaningless existence. All he had seen, all he had experienced would be lost forever.

Night had fallen as he stumbled along, his movements growing more sluggish. His eyes easily pierced this darkness, since they had been created to function in the blackness of the void, and through the gaps in the forest canopy he glimpsed stars. He wondered which of those glittering points he had visited in his wanderings. His memories were growing hazy as his thoughts calcified. What would happen to the body he had shaped from the void’s substance after he perished here? Would some strange new flower grow from his rotting flesh? He hoped so –

Wait.

Zogrusz came to an abrupt stop, the mist in his mind suddenly clearing. Through the tangle in front of him, he saw a flicker of light, and new sounds drifted to him that rose and fell with a far different cadence than the jungle’s other noises.

Slowly he crept forward, his excitement swelling.

A large clearing had been hacked from the forest and filled with crude structures fashioned from fallen trees lashed together with vines. A different animal skull was perched atop each of these buildings, gleaming in the moonlight, and a freshly butchered beast was splayed out in the grass, much of its flesh already stripped from its bones. That meat was now turning on a spit over the fire where the creatures of this little community were clustered. They were making gabbling noises – loud, cheerful sounds – that suggested they did not fear the darkness their flame was pressing back.

Zogrusz hovered among the trees fringing their camp and drank deep of their thoughts. These were not simple creatures – their internal lives were nearly as rich as his own. He learned of this place, of the beasts in the forest and the fruit that was good to eat and the way to catch fish barehanded while sunk waist-deep in the river. He learned of the People and the great skull their chief wore when he was inhabited by the Spirit and of the drought that had chased them from the grasslands last summer and that their tribe had been blessed with five births so far this spring, three boys and two girls, all miraculously healthy and strong.

These were not worms or insects or animals slaved to base instincts.

They thought. They dreamed. They desired.

For so long he had sought companionship, and finally, after a journey that had spanned the cosmos, he had found it.

He stepped into the light.

A woman feeding an infant turned towards him, and in her mind, he saw that she was expecting to see her brother returning from his hunt.

“Hello!” Zogrusz exclaimed, raising his hands in this tribe’s gesture of peace. “I am Zogrusz!”

She screamed, shielding her babe with her body. Every face in the clearing whirled at the sound.

Zogrusz’s mouth-tendrils twitched nervously. “Hello?” he tried again as an avalanche of thoughts and emotions rushed over him.

Surprise. Confusion. Fear.

He rocked back on his heels, momentarily stunned by the raw intensity of the feelings erupting from these creatures. Scattered images assailed him – a great shadow looming from the forest, yellow eyes glowing, firelight glinting on wickedly curving claws. Shrieking noises emanated from it, vaguely word-like but far too harsh and grating to be understood.

Him. He was staring at himself, as seen and experienced by these strange thinking animals.

What was the problem?

More screams, sparks exploding as the creatures scrambled away from the fire. A long piece of wood with a sharpened end bounced harmlessly off his shoulder. A spear, he recognized from the knowledge he had drunk earlier from their flayed minds.

A weapon.

“Why are you frightened?” Zogrusz asked, trying to speak more clearly as he strode further into the clearing. “I mean you no harm! I am Zogrusz! I only wish to feed and grow strong again.” He hesitated, realizing how poorly he had phrased this last statement. “But not on you! None of you look very appetizing, to be honest.”

Another spear shattered against his scales.

The creatures were fleeing, tumbling over each other in their haste to escape. Even the few that had briefly thought to challenge him were now retreating, having seen their attacks fail. Zogrusz wanted to chase after them and give assurances that he was no threat, but from the panic he felt swirling in this clearing he knew such actions would be misunderstood.

Also, something was different now.

As he watched the last of the animals vanish into the forest he turned inwards, exploring this strange new sensation.

Full. He was sated. The gnawing ache inside him had disappeared with the last of these animals. Something had filled the emptiness. His tongue flickered out, tasting the humid air. It was . . . delicious. Thick with the sweet taste of terror. The panic his appearance had created, the fear . . . it was flowing into him, pooling in his gullet.

Dizzied, he stumbled into the fire, raising another scattering of sparks. His head was swimming, his own thoughts difficult to parse. He felt gorged, bloated, and he had the sudden overwhelming desire to rest.

But not here. Not in the ruins of this camp with the bravest of the animals out there in the trees watching.

No, he needed somewhere dark and quiet. Zogrusz lifted his head, to where the shadow of a mountain loomed over the jungle. He imagined the deepness beneath, utterly bereft of light, not so different from the void of his birth. A place to sleep and slowly digest what had filled him to the brim and brought him near to bursting.

Mouth-tendrils quivering, Zogrusz staggered into the forest.