Feria looked like someone who saw empty dirt plains where she expected an overgrown forest. For that was exactly what had happened.

Hadn’t she been here only months ago? And all trees were still alive? After several steps, the pink fox noticed eaten leaves, flowers with crooked stalks, and shells from peeled nuts.

The culprits weren’t far. A group of animals moved towards the Nightriver. Few of them could walk on four legs yet. The others still swam, or slithered clumsily across the beach, and you could never forget the insects—an explosion of insects buzzing in Feria’s ears.

She called it a group because they had high numbers. Not because it was a herd or the same species. All walked their own path, alone, searching for a plant that survived. They often didn’t even notice someone else was close.

Why would they? They weren’t able to communicate yet. And the faster you found your next plant, the more likely it hadn’t been eaten yet.

This was unsustainable. Every few months? An entire forest eaten away? Eeris, Goddess of Nature, already worked day and night to add new plants. Feria, as Goddess of Animals, now had to do her part.

She quickly reached the slow-moving group. Only two animals looked up, with languid uninterested eyes. Besides her, three little Forefrogs played and pushed each other into the water. They’d stay in the nest together for a short while, then leave on their own too.

They were frogs, dear reader, before frogs existed. Their body was longer and their hind paws identical tot heir front paws, as if they actually wanted to be horses. But one property was surely at their advantage: size. You can keep a frog in your hand now, but these frogs grow to be as tall as some trees.

“I have a godly request,” Feria said formally. She could make herself understood to all animals, even if they couldn’t respond. “Would it be possible to eat less? Or less quickly?”

Nobody responded. A few lizards shrugged. Bearded Dragons always seemed intelligent to her, but this looked more like shrugging off a few annoying insects.

“We must eat all day, or we won’t survive.”

Feria didn’t know who said it. She found it hard to believe. These animals did nothing all day, only growing fatter! She knew herbivores had to put effort into digesting all their plant food, but to chew on leaves all day?

She needed Eeris, who had spontaneously vanished again. Probably ran after a butterfly, or discovered a new species of tree, like a little child.

She needed her Hespryhound. To hug, yes, but also to intimidate these animals into listening. But, well, her pet had also vanished. For all they knew, he had eaten that entire forest, that’s how large her little puppy had become. It made her smile, which lost her the animal’s attention.

She needed somebody to help her. Or the entire planet would be barren again! Stripped of all food! And then? Would animals jump back into the waters? After millions of years they could finally walk on land and breathe, and then the land just … runs out?

All three of the Forefrogs fell into the water. The group trudged onwards, but Feria waited, and waited, and waited.

She ran to the shoreline and looked down.

Not a single frog came back up, for they had all disappeared.

“Help! Did anybody see the playing frogs?” she yelled over her shoulder. “They disappeared!”

Hundreds of eyes look at her unblinking. Two bearded dragons whispered among each other. The message was quickly picked up. Animals could not understand each other, but that wasn’t needed if you heard the emotion in this message. They started looking around, more and more nervous, as if to explore every corner of this place. Their voices grew louder. Feria heard … panic?

Until the largest bearded dragon screamed: “Fleshfeasters!”

All animals ran in different directions, with more stumbles than successful exits. That’s what you get, Feria though, if you never practice running hard. It was a mean thought, but Feria knew it would be needed to save these jungles. A small group stood behind Feria, wanting her protection, but the others had run away.

The sun set. No frogs came back up, but she did notice shadows in the water. Larger than those frogs. Faster, deeper, more agile. Heart in her throat, she stepped back, away from shore. The animals followed eagerly. Fly after fly was fetched out of the air by the nervous bearded dragons, but the luminous fireflies were left alone.

“Fleshfeasters?” Feria mumbled, her voice hoarse.

She’d heard of them. Rumors, fairy tales, stories from animals who didn’t have all their ducks in a row. Since Hanah added her Soulsplitter to this world, animals didn’t die of old age anymore. As long as you didn’t get ill or wounded, you could live forever. That didn’t prevent, of course, that your mind wasn’t as sharp anymore after a hundred years.

“Ghosts. Rumors. Gossip,” Feria confidently told the shivering group. Their location was quickly cast in shadow.

They had to move away from here.

“Nonsense,” the bearded dragon said. “There! There’s another one!”

His tail pointed; all eyes followed. Nearby, shrubs shivered and shook, as if a smaller shrub wanted to grow and break out of it, surrounded by growls. “There is nothing … there is nothing …”

“They have red eyes!” someone behind her yelled.

“Sharp teeth!”

“Eat everything and everyone!”

“Ghosts! Spirits! They don’t belong here!”

Someone nudged her side, startling her. “You’re a Goddess! Do something!”

Maybe they should TREAT me like a Goddess, she thought. But they were right. She had magic, they didn’t. She made herself tall and snuck towards the shrubs. The beast had to be large. And spikes? Did she see spikes?

A black paw suddenly reached for her. She cringed—until she recognized the paw. Her brother Darus, a huge labrador wolf, stepped from the shadows with twigs stuck in his fur. He almost seemed a porcupine; and his face betrayed equal pain.

“This is the last time I play hide and seek with these animals,” Darus grumbled. “They don’t understand. I hide, but they never actually seek, and—”

Feria jumped to him and gave him ten kisses.

“I’m happy to see you too, but—”

The group sighed from relief. Two gods, ten animals, they had to be safe. Especially because Darus was friends with everyone, even insects and plants.

Then he looked up and noticed the entire jungle on this side of the Nightriver was gone. He stroked his chin and was surely preparing some silly remark, but Feria didn’t have the patience.

“We have to find a solution. More plants. Or less creatures. Other magic. Or … or …”

“I could make a mountain range?”

“Darus, you always want to make a mountain.”

“This time it’s a great idea! Really! I make mountains and, say, animals are unable to walk to new jungles every time!”

Feria sighed. It was an idea. “Can you do little mountains? Even we can’t cross your Impossible Wall yet.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll contain myself.”

The more flies buzzed around her, the more she started swatting them away like an insane god. Even that was becoming a problem. Could a Goddess never be at peace? She pulled Darus with her, away from eavesdropping animals, but they just followed her wherever she went.

So she spoke publicly. “What do you know … of the Fleshfeasters?”

His face turned grave. “Not enough. I’ve been hearing rumors about CARN for years. Never could catch one.”

He walked away. They followed the Nightriver from a safe distance. Long ago it was named the Dayriver, the water bright and shining. Then the water suddenly turned black—and that color had never disappeared.

Eeris claimed a plant called Blacktrail caused it. Feria hoped that plant stayed in the water. The world had been hot and swampy for millions of years, causing your paws to sink into wet earth. If the entire earth turned black too, she’d be sad all day.

They reached a waterfall. At the top, the water was dark and opaque, but down below the droplets took on their original color again. Feria though the place felt odd, but couldn’t place the feeling.

Nearby lay three animal bodies, who died from a huge bite into their side. They were young and still warm. I can’t deny it, she thought, this was no natural death.

They moved to the edge to look out across the valley below.

Hundreds of animals, alive and well, ran across it. Like one huge centipede slithering away from danger, over the bottom of the Mayfill—the lake that, on this day at least, was not filled with water.

“They tried to flee by jumping into the waterfall,” Darus said. “These were too slow.”

This surely didn’t calm down the animals. They nudged her again and asked for protection, to sleep in the Throne of Tomorrow this night, if Feria didn’t know a spell that would make them really unattractive to Fleshfeasters.

They all asked the same thing, again and again, because they didn’t hear the others ask the same thing.

But Feria’s mind was elsewhere. Their largest fear since creating planteaters seemed to have become a reality: animals who weren’t satisfied and started eating other animals. And then she realized why this place felt odd.

Not a single insect buzzed in hear ears anymore.

Magim awoke from a nightmare into another nightmare. When he slept, he dreamt he was being chased by those ghosts they called Fleshfeasters. He had such a hard time imagining them, that they sometimes looked like clouds with eyes, but like plants with sharp claws at other times.

Then he awoke and saw the entire jungle was gone. And with that, his food and cover.

His stomach rumbled, his body almost refusing to work until he had eaten, as hey lay on a warm stone under the sun. As bearded dragon, he could flatten himself like a leaf and run hard—but that wouldn’t help him now. He felt ill. His mouth was dry and hard, as if somebody had tried putting a stone into it. His front paws were barely able to carry him.

His front paws looked very different than last night. The skin was covered in wounds and bulges, which made it red, purple and green. He’d never seen this before—which made it worse. It hurt and worsened with each movement.

Alright. What’s the first step to becoming strong? Food. He rose up and walked away from the empty plains, as he did every day, for tens of years now.

Years in which nothing happened. Nothing good, nothing bad. It was always step one: repeat step one forever. Would this still be fun once he reached the ripe age of a million years old? With such weird front paws he might not even make that.

After walking half a day he found a clearing with edible plants, but they were guarded.

Not really, dear reader. Animals couldn’t build fences yet and certainly no locks, but most planteaters didn’t even realized other creatures existed. Forefrogs had always been more aggressive though: if they thought you were about to eat THEIR plants, they’d push you out of the way.

Magim filled his longs, collected his courage, and stepped forward.

A lizard immediately pushed him away as he stumbled past him. He didn’t hesitate and burst through the Forefrogs to a tasty plant. Well, he thought, that’s step two to becoming strong: take all you can get.

“Go away!” a frog yelled. The lizard didn’t understand. Why did Magim understand? Bearded dragons had always been better at imitating or understanding other animals.

The lizard turned around and nipped at even more leaves. He was quite a bit larger then Magim and the frogs. But he was also clumsy and walked past the plants several times before he finally grabbed one.

The frogs pushed him around. A third frog tried to quickly pull all plants out of his reach.

“Also mine!”

“You not us.”

The lizard’s mouth fell open. “I also here.”

The frogs froze. The lizard had weird teeth. Triangular, long, much sharper. It didn’t help him eat leaves, that was for sure, because it took an eternity before he swallowed one leaf.

Most animals didn’t even have teeth. They just swallowed food directly or broke it into tiny bites beforehand. But if an animal did have teeth, Magim had only seen small square stubs.

“You not us. You weird. Weird teeth.”

“You weird head.”

Magim snuck closer and tried to eat leaves on the other side, unseen. His mouth almost caught the first bite when the frogs noticed him too. Paws pushed him backward. He couldn’t stop it with his weak, sick front paws that hurt more and more.

“You sure not us.”

“Yes! Yes I am like you!” Magim looked at how the frogs stood. They leaned more on their hind paws. They moved with leaps instead of steps, and their fingers held thick webs that made any paw movement difficult. That had to feel like you were always bound.

Magim imitated them. Hij tried the same posture, the same slow way of grabbing things, the same lack of paw movement. The frogs seemed unsure how to react. They looked at each other, then Magin, then each other.

“You us?”

Magim also tried to copy their words. It was hard to remember the difference sometimes, between his own language and that of other animals. “I like you. Share plants.”

The frogs now let Magim be and pushed the lizard away with more force. He stood still, angry and tail raised, but said nothing.

Magim also tried to imitate that posture, to calm the lizard, but stopped halfway. Those paws were big and his claws were sharp. And was he still chewing on the same leaf? That had to be step three: at some point, you had to swallow the food.

“What animal are you?” Magim asked.

“Name Higgis. I like you. Plants—” The frogs shook their heads and pushed Higgis away definitively, after which they ate the final leaves. There was little food. Magim could understand.

“Can help!” Higgis said. “Carry heavy things. Protect. Big and strong.”

He wanted to stretch his size by standing on his hind paws, but lost his balance and rolled over the floor. The frogs laughed at him.

“You funny. Can help entertain.”

The frog tapped Higgis’ nose. He playfully nipped at it, but missed completely. Magim suspected something was wrong with his eyes. He was funny—but could be much more.

“He with me,” Magim quickly said. He showed his sick skin and hoped it was convincing. “Carries me, can move bad now.”

Higgis looked at him for a while. Then he smiled and hopped alongside. “Yes! Yes, true.”

Magim tried to eat well, but even that hurt thanks to his dry mouth. The frogs could have the rest. He turned around and tried it again with a shrub nearby that held softer, smaller leaves.

Behind him, it sounded as if a hundred animals suddenly feasted on the remaining plant food. Higgis had to slow down! Or his noise might give them away to those … Fleshfeasters. He was reluctant to add a step four to the plan: make sure you don’t become someone else’s food.

If you believed the rumors, of course. Animals who ate other animals? What else would they come up with? That their planet was round? That not everyone had immortality? Right, sure.

Believing, however, was easier when you saw it with your own eyes.

After five bites, Magim had removed enough leaves to reveal what lay inside this shrub. He felt something he didn’t even know he could feel. As if it was locked inside his head, for a thousand years, and only freed now.

He saw a skeleton of an animal, small as a baby, missing half of its pieces. Fragments of its egg were scattered around like snowflakes. Magim knew of no illness that made you lose half your body. The more he studied his own red, burst skin—on both front paws—the less certain he was of that. He didn’t just have to eat well, he had to find help! Someone to heal him.

The noises behind him suddenly ceased.

He turned around and saw an empty clearing. Without Forefrogs, without Higgis, even without insects. Or maybe—the frogs lay on the ground, dead, or whatever was left of them. Oh, I hope they didn’t hurt sweet Higgis, was Magim’s first thought.

His second thought was to run away from the growls at his back.

Darus had made his new mountains in no time. Along the Nightriver, which was often called the Nightswamp instead during this time period. The Maybemountains were easy to cross for gods, but not for the small land dwelling animals. Frankly, they were stony hills, no more.

Feria, however, couldn’t leave behind the animals who now saw her as their guardian angel. So she took them with her on her journey to the Throne, with Darus, even if it meant a much slower journey. These creatures never had to do anything else than slowly eat plants—so they couldn’t do anything else. The pace was adjusted to the slowest of the group: a bearded dragon with an infected leg who could barely take a step.

The sun rose and Feria saw the proof everywhere. Left and right, bodies of dead animals were covered by plants or carried by the waves. Yes, there they would be, those Fleshfeasters. Always watching, always hidden, until an unsuspecting creature just walks into their vicious claws.

And any time she thought that, her rage increased. “We have to exterminate them, while we still can,” she whispered to Darus at the front.

He looked surprised. “I’d think the Goddess of Animals would think a little longer before deciding to kill her own animals.”

“This is different. I don’t count the Fleshfeasters. If we don’t do it, only more animals will be killed. Until no life remains!”

“Nah, I’d say the plants will be just fine without animals.”

Feria couldn’t stand his jokey air and walked away. “I’ll discuss it with Ardex and Bella. They’ll agree with me.”

“And then? You don’t even know who or where they are. And what if, a hundred years from now, another animal happens to grow sharp teeth and flesh eating behavior?”

Feria quickened her pace. “This is no coincidence. Someone is behind this. How else would these Fleshfeasters suddenly appear? You hear nothing about this group for thousands of years, and now suddenly—”

“Because animals couldn’t talk yet, Feria.”

“You never take anything seriously.”

“You always overreact.”

Their discussion continued, for days, as they finally reached the Throne. The animals had complained about how hungry they were, and how much they wanted to lie down and do nothing. Even if Feria had wanted, her paws were tight. Most of these plains also lay barren, eaten away by the countless herbivores.

They should’ve gone to the other side of the Nightriver. Where all the other animals went.

But, well, give it a week and all food would be depleted there too. She had to change something now. And if she had to choose between peaceful herbivores and mean Fleshfeasters, she knew which group had to go.

Darus ran ahead and asked Ardex to meet them halfway. Feria used the time for research. She asked everyone what they knew, but answering was hard. Only the bearded dragons gave meaningful responses.

“When did you first hear about them?”

“Long, long ago. Legends say that they only lived in the water then. En we did not live there, so no problem.”

“But where do such legends come from? Who started them?” Feria wondered if she missed something crucial. Was there a time in which animals could talk perfectly? Were things better underwater? She had to ask Gulvi, but he never dared speak out about such hard topics. He was scared that, if he said anything wrong, firegod Ardex would come up with some destructive plan to “solve the issue”.

The bearded dragons waved their tails. “Someone. Someone with power, because one night I even heard the gods talk about this issue.”

“Who? Which gods?”

“Cosmo and another. They talked about the CARN issue and the CARN mission. But they comforted the other animals, said nothing was wrong, and so we … assumed nothing was wrong.”

You must understand, dear reader, that life was slow at this time. Little danger. Animals lived forever. It could take a hundred thousand years before a new animal species evolved or anything changed. If the bearded dragon said something was long ago, you must think in thousands of years, not one or two years.

“And then?”

“Nothing. You’d see an animal each day, then they disappeared, but that’s not strange, right? They stayed legends, until …”

“Until?”

The bearded dragon leaned forward and whispered, as if Feria was his little kid. Sometimes she forgot she was a Goddess and not like the animals. She had sharp tooth, yes, but she didn’t need to eat. She looked like a fox because Father happened to change her into that when they were banished. She could swim underwater, but was no fish. She could touch an animal and feel if they were sick—and, if fortunate, also heal them.

“I spoke to multiple bearded dragons who all say the same thing,” the creature whispered. “The Fleshfeaster nest is at the other side of the Nightriver, as far away from the gods as possible. They are with thousands.”

Feria wanted to stop listening, but she couldn’t stop, scared and curious.

“They are everywhere, if you know where to look. Their shadows are behind trees. Their sharp tooth shine in the moonlight. You hear their growls in your nightmares when you sleep. For if you don’t look … they get you.”

As he talked, his beard had blown up. A large skin below his chin, covered in black dots, filled with air until it was larger than Feria’s head. It had soft spikes and made the bearded dragon look almost as intimidating as its name suggested. The only land animal Feria assumed could somewhat defend itself.

She saw Ardex and Darus come, as two wild dogs on the horizon. Not far behind them, Eeris hobbled, the long giraffe who looked angry for a change. They met along the Green Path, close to where it ended and no creature could pass some invisible wall to the South.

When they stood next to her, panting, they wasted no time.

“Bella and I agree,” Ardex said seriously. “Those Fleashfeasters must go. We have a place to which we can banish them.”

“As if that’s better,” Eeris said. “Then they will die there because there is no food!”

“The other option,” Darus said soothingly, “is to spread the herbivores better.”

“It takes a century to bring them to another place!” Feria hoped the animals following her weren’t insulted.

“Then we bring them ourselves,” Darus said. They all assumed he was joking—he wasn’t.

“And how do you propose to move hundreds of thousands of animals with seven busy gods?”

“Ho, no, I say we do nothing of that. We ask other animals to help.”

“Who? These animals are weak, lazy, immovable!” Feria, again, hoped her insults weren’t heard.

“During my travels, I befriended some animals who are large. And strong! And healthy! I’ve been using them for small missions for years.”

“What?” Ardex felt most insulted of all. He was probably about to bring some quote like: we are gods, brother dear, and we do NOT beg animals to help us like beggars!

“You aaaall received your magical Heavenmatter from the Heavenly Palace.” Darus counted on his fingers, even though he could barely count. “Ardex got his Firering, Feria her Hespryhound, etcetera, etcetera. And me? I got nothing. I haven’t received my magical Heavenmatter yet. So I need all the help I can get!”

Feria couldn’t even remember what his special object was, though she knew it was powerful. She felt guilty. Darus was always ready to help, always friendly and among the animals, and they merely treated him like a bumbling idiot that sometimes moved mountains.

“I can do it, really,” Eeris said, pleading. “Create enough plants for all. We can do this.”

Ardex reacted instantly. His answer seemed ready before Eeris even asked. “No. Darus, use your help to spread the animals to fresh jungles and forests across the entire world. And those Fleashfeasters must die. If you finally catch one, bring them here. I’ll bring them to a safer place.”

“To which place—”

“Better it remains secret. We can’t trust anyone anymore.”

The animals responded to this with varied noises. Cheering wasn’t a thing yet, but the shouts sounded enthusiastic and positive.

“Then we first have to find out who they are,” Feria whispered. “And where.”

First step: avoid Fleshfeasters. Second step: don’t die. Third step: run quickly, even if your legs don’t want to. All other steps: avoid Fleshfeasters.

His leg hurt and sank deep into the swampy ground. The biggest problem, of course, is that he had never run before in his entire life. Maybe as a little child, but that was long ago. He’d seen others do it—and now he tried to imitate those movements.

No time to look behind. The rapid steps seemed to come from all around, as if the Fleshfeasters had encircled him. What else could he do? If you’d asked him yesterday, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine that an animal would eat another animal. Now that his skin was sick, and slowly damaged itself, he could almost feel what it would be like to be bitten to death. Such nightmares helped him run for a while, but at some point his body had to give up.

Namely when he bumped into the start of a mountain. Had this always been here? Pretty sure it wasn’t. Only yesterday he lay on a stone and could see the entire valley—with no mountain in the way. Sharp tips? Living mountains? FLESHFEASTERS.

He turned around and ran the other way. Cross the Nightriver. He’d never been on the other side. He had never even tried crossing it, for everyone knew bearded dragons were quick to drawn. As a baby he’d heard, every night, the traditional warning.

Who wants to keep their meat, needs to remember this in time of need. Stay away from river shore or you will quickly live no more.

If the legends were true, the Fleashfeaster nest was around here. He was far from the safety of gods or bystanders. But not far from the Fleshfeaster chasing him.

He tried to come up with new steps. Step one: climb into a tree. Step two: big, stupid Fleashfeaster can’t climb tree. Step three: wait until he goes away. Step four: he doesn’t go away, what now?

This wasn’t helping. What was he supposed to do? This was not fair. He couldn’t protect himself, outside of a beard that could blow up. As if that was threatening. He’d reached the limits of his stamina, unable to draw more breath, perhaps because of that persistent lump in his throat. In his panic, he’d lost count of how many insects he accidentally slowed.

Night fell. His painful paws climbed onto a pile of stones arranged in a neat line. His body gave up and fell flat on the stone. Flat enough that he hoped he was invisible. He wanted to sleep, but couldn’t when a hot breath and sharp teeth could be next to you at any moment.

For the first time in his life he wished, no begged with all he had, that somebody was here to protect him. If Higgis was still alive, he had to come back. Even though the lizard was silly and dumb enough to still get eaten. Even that was better than shivering, alone, on a cold stone.

Bearded dragons are cold-blooded creatures, dear reader, so he was unable to keep himself warm. He took over the temperature of the environment. And that was currently a cold, dark, frightening night. Although … a small dot of light appeared in the distance.

Magim awoke. He had slept after all, but must have woken up in a panic, as he was still able to see a Sandbeing run away.

He checked if all his body parts were still there. Yes, but his sick paws weren’t healing. He had to go to the gods, ask Feria to heal him. Why was he just sleeping and resting? Why—

Why was there light over there?

It was only a small dot, but a firefly would never be strong enough to create so much light. Fleshfeasters wouldn’t give themselves away like that, right? They wanted to stick to the shadows. Maybe this was a god or someone fighting those monsters. He quickly decided there was better than here, and was satisfied with his decision as soon as he felt the warmth of a fire.

It wasn’t a fire that burns down a forest, or attacks everything around it, but one that neatly stayed in place. So it had to be Ardex the Firegod! He shuffled towards the warmth, past dry twigs on the floor and cracked tree trunks that smelled of blood.

Unless Ardex had suddenly changed into a different animal, this wasn’t him.

Magim pressed himself flat against a tree, no thicker than a hair, as more creatures sought the light. The animal controlling the fire was clearly the largest. Their leader? They all came to him. Even animals who looked like him: small, non-threatening, probably unable to eat meat.

All of that changed after one touch from the Leader.

The animals formed a row, a Losslizard at the front. That was a lizard, dear reader, who missed a few legs. An early predecessor to snakes: a Proto-snake. They hobbled more than they walked, and weren’t as dangerous or poisonous as they’d become later.

One by one, the Leader tapped their forehead with his snout. Each time those gigantic jaws moved down, Magim feared he’d just eat them again.

But he never did: he turned the creatures into Fleshfeasters.

The metamorphosis started a few heartbeats after the touch. The Losslizard grew long teeth, like Ardex’ tusks, but more straight and pointy. A Forefrog received an even bigger body. A lizard received claws sharp enough to accidentally wound herself.

Not a word was said. No spell cast, no deal made. The Leader growled and barked once; the fires extinguished themselves and the new Fleshfeasters all left in different directions. The Leader trudged away too.

Magim wanted to push himself into the tree. That Proto-snake slithered in his direction, eyes wide and shiny, as if fire was behind them. You don’t see me, he thought. Losslizards also have bad vision, right? Right?

The Losslizard didn’t see him. But fear, pure fear, could be smelled by a Fleshfeaster from a distance.

Magim blinked. The Protosnake had suddenly moved, twisted itself around the trunk, and was ready to devour him from above. Stop it! Let me be safe! I want—step one: I become a Fleshfeaster myself.

Just as the Protosnake dove onto him, Magim rolled himself to the Leader. His attacker was left with teeth stuck in the dirt.

“I want to become a Fleshfeaster too!” he yelled.

The Leader turned his head slowly. He looked most similar to funny Darus, but different—much less funny. Magims heart raced. The creature sniffled at him, his snout larger than Magim’s entire body.

Then he shook his head and walked away.

“Why not? Why not me? I like you!” He tried to imitate the Leader’s walk. He imitated the wild look in their eyes—very well, he thought—and the rapid leaps they made when they saw tasty prey.

“Yes. You’re already a Fleshfeaster,” the Leader said in a kind but confused tone. Then he sprinted away at full force.

Magim still stood at the center of a clearing, surrounded by fresh Fleshfeasters looking for their first taste of meat.

The Losslizard had freed himself and slithered towards him. A Forefrog leapt at him; Magim rolled backwards to prevent being squashed.

“I am not a Fleshfeaster yet!” he yelled. The Proto-snake wrapped around his front paws, until he saw the ill skin and pulled away, as if afraid it was contagious. The others closed in on Magim.

It stalled just enough time for a new creature to run past and kick Magim’s attackers far away. The creature seemed a giant compared to the new Fleshfeasters. They scrambled to their feet and fled.

Higgis bumped into two trees and hugged a twig.

“I looking for you!” He probably thought he was hugging Magim, who quickly swallowed a few buzzing flies to calm himself.

A long, tired sigh escaped Magim. He was safe. Safe. He’d always been safe, his entire life, but only now he actually felt how great it was. “What happened? How did you get away? How did you find me?”

Higgis’ face was scared and covered in droplets of blood. “They attacked. Five Fleshfeasters! Huge, spitting fire, claws big as trees, and wings made of leaves, and they also looked like fish floating in the air, and I couldn’t save those frogs, and—”

“Your eyes are terrible, aren’t they?”

“My eyes perfect. Don’t believe? You just saw!”

“Their claws weren’t as large as trees.”

Higgis frowned. He really believed what he just explained.

“What do I look like to you?” Magim asked.

“A large Losslizard with sharp teeth and five tails. Of which two tails …” He studied Magim’s sick skin a little longer and then looked pained, biting his lip. “Would you not … solve that?”

Magim walked on. Higgis joined as if he were his guard, four times as tall. “Sorry, Higgis, but I really think your eyes are bad. I’m just a tiny Bearded Dragon, a lizard with a beard. And I am going to solve my sickness, because we’re going to visit the gods together.”

“Together?” Higgis’ face lit up. When Magim waved his tail, as a gesture of friendship, he playfully nipped at it again.

“Yes.”

They walked through the dark for a while. Magim was mad at himself. Had he really asked to become a Fleshfeaster? Then … then he would have eaten Higgis! Or other bearded dragons! Biting other creatures. Eating their meat. He should have felt disgusted, unable to even consider it, but now he also felt curious. Would it be tasty? Would it make him stronger and larger, like Higgis thought?

Magim had to regularly redirect the lizard to prevent walking into a tree. Higgis often reached for insects, or leaves, or nuts, only to miss them repeatedly. He didn’t mind—at least, not until Magim had pointed it out. Now Higgis sighed and gave up whenever he missed again.

“My eyes are bad,” he mumbled. “Maybe won’t even see when Fleshfeaster attacks. Are trees even trees? Do fish exist!? Not know anymore.”

“I will help you—”

Their cooperation would immediately be tested. A large group of animals raced over the land, far too fast and strong to be herbivores, straight at them.

Feria had no clue where Darus found them, but his helpers were indeed strong and happy to help. They kept asking if they could do any more, if there were more animals to move around, and didn’t even mind traveling all the way to the other side of Origina.

Though that distance wasn’t too great. The entire world was still connected as one continent: Volarde. This part, where the gods landed, had been dubbed Origina. But all other parts were currently close by and reachable by land.

Perhaps she could ask Darus to have his tectonic plates move faster. If the plant eaters all got stuck on different continents … split by a sea … they wouldn’t be able to eat entire jungles and then leave …

She smiled. Yes, Darus could do that. Perhaps his joking attitude and lack of seriousness was the right way. Everyone seemed to live him, while they only viewed Feria as a guard when needed.

She tried to talk with the animals following her, but they barely responded. The message was clear: keep us safe, then disappear, stern Goddess. But somebody had to be stern, right? Didn’t the others realize how terrible the situation was?

When she delivered the animals safely, she immediately continued her research. Ardex and Eeris now sometimes caught a Fleshfeaster in the act, but they were lone actors who seemed unsure of their own abilities. As if the idea of chasing prey was entirely new to them. No large group, no nest, no idea where they all were. Eeris bound them with magical vines and Ardex would bring them to “that other place”.

She didn’t like that. Solving a problem by pushing the problematic animals in one small corner. It felt worse than killing. At least Gods could kill an animal in a soft, magical, peaceful way. If they simply gathered all Fleshfeasters and let them be, it would be everything but peaceful. But Ardex was the boss, and God of Death, so …

They’d mostly followed the Green Path the first time. It was a wide, long path from the Throne to all corners of Origina, made and maintained by the Green Sisters—Eeris and Feria. They hoped animals would use it more, but now that rumors of Fleshfeasters traveled the continent, nobody wanted to expose themselves on the path.

So, to continue her research, she traveled past the rivers. She started at the Longneck, the longest river they knew which ended in the Wise Sea, which contained her own throne: the Tree of Life. But that also followed the Green Path too much, so she turned even more corners, visiting lesser known rivers. Not back to the Nightriver, but towards the Impossible Wall of Darus.

She met a lot of helpers along the way and greeted them with a smile. It was an odd sight: groups of animals draped over the back of large animals like blankets. But it worked and she hoped the issue of too few plants was solved now.

As she followed the Aparant River for longer, the world turned deadly silent. Most animals still had to arrive here. This was a far off, obscure corner of their world. Most trees of the Middle Forest were still alive, untouched by the plague of herbivores. Listen to me, Feria thought. The Fleshfeasters are a plague, the Herbivores are a plague. And I dare call myself Goddess of Animals!

Balance. Father always said her duty was one of balance. Something she obviously didn’t understand as a small Goddess. Now she understood, but she hated it. The plant eaters ate too many plants. The meat eaters ate too many plant eaters. What came next? Gods, maybe? Was it really the only solution to start removing meat eaters?

The forest was devoid of life. Feria grew uneasy, as she always was when not surrounded by animals or life. Yes, insects were everywhere, but she almost hated creating them in the first place. Eeris loved the animals, for they helped her plants procreate. Feria was more suited for animals like her, whom she could hug or talk to.

Her paw hurt. In the sand, next to the river, she bumped into a hard surface. She shook it off, but bumped into another hard surface. Her snout dove into the sand and dug multiple deep holes, throwing away the sand through her hind paws.

Bones. Animal skeletons, some land dwellers, some ocean dwellers. Upset, the fox started to dig through the entire shoreline. Skeleton after skeleton appeared. She had a hard time finding any area that did not carry ample evidence of Fleshfeaster activity.

It never ended. Feria cried for the loss of life. For the creatures who probably enjoyed a sunny day, nibbling something or proudly looking over their children, then suddenly dying in a flash of pain and fear.

No, she thought. We can’t exterminate the Fleshfeasters, we can’t let them exist, I can do neither of those things. Is there really no other way, Father?

She hated herself for still thinking about Father. Still asking his help or advice. He had banished her, refused her, left her here to die. He clearly didn’t care about her; she still wanted to do right by him somehow.

Her paws stood inside the deep hole she’d dug. She leaned forward to study the clear water. She hoped to see an abundance of little fish, but expected more dead bodies on the seabed. The bearded dragon was right. They must have started in the water. All life started underwater. Or maybe they were still—

A wave, tall as a tree, erupted out of nowhere and dragged Feria into the sea. She was quick enough keep a hold of the shoreline, but her eyes closed due to the splash and she lost all sense of direction. Her paws stung. Teeth, quills, spikes, something sharp bit at her and refused to let her go. The animal pulled her deeper, scraping across the scratchy sand, then Feria remembered her powers.

Her tail twisted around her. The attacker held her tight for a few more moments, then loosened its grip. She could see again: an enormous squid fell asleep before her eyes. No, not sleep, Feria had forced his heart to overwork itself and now he was unconscious. She struggled out of the water, back to safe ground. Her paw bled, heavily, but she subconsciously healed it with her magic.

The squid washed ashore, half its tentacles on land, half like seaweed just under the surface. Feria fit five times inside each tentacle. “How,” she said loudly, “did we miss that?”

Something like that didn’t just appear. These were once tiny squids who happened to be able to eat meat particles. And after thousands of years they’d grown to be … these monsters. Why did they pretend Fleshfeasters were a new thing? Why had she never noticed this? Her fellow gods spoke of their CARN mission, to find any meat eaters before it gets out of hand, so why did they not find this?

Gulvi should have seen. As a dolphin, he swum through these waters all day. Or did he not think it was an issue? He’d always been best friends with his little sister Hanah. She might have convinced him to let it be. Let nature do whatever it does.

How could you do that, if it meant even gods had to fear the sharp teeth and claws of their own creations? If you couldn’t even walk the beach safely?

Feria must have seen this before. Unless … someone purposely hid it from here. That was possible, as long as these beasts stayed underwater. Only once they moved to the land, it became impossible to keep Feria in the dark.

Panting sounded behind her. She wasn’t afraid, for she recognized it. She already ran at the animal to hug him. Her Hespryhound wagged his tail and licked the wound on her paw, even though it had already fully healed.

Feria regularly thanked Hanah for bringing the Heavenmatter to them. She couldn’t imagine living another million years without her sweet Hespryhound.

“You really need to stay close, dear pet,” Feria said. He’d been gone for years, though, so maybe he had more information. “Sweetling, what do you know about the Fleshfeasters?”

The hound looked scared. Him too? What did they do to him?

“Nothing. They don’t dare attack me, I think, but I hear the rumors. I see the consequences.”

Feria looked around her, as if she expected her siblings to appear any moment. She whispered: “Did you ever hear about one of the gods being connected to it? Saw one of my brothers or sisters with a Fleshfeaster?”

Her pet from the Heavenly Palace thought about this for a while. “Is this a trick question? Are you tricking me again? Like how you always pretend to throw away a stick, but never really do, and then—”

Feria frowned. “No? What do you mean, dear pet?”

Hespry used his front paw to point at Darus’ helpers, who carried an entire lizard family in the distance. “And how do you think those helpers became so big and strong? By eating plants that are … nowhere to be found? I though … I assumed you knew. That you realized the chain of food has to be this way and … accepted it.”

Yes, now she understood.

She waited no longer and sprinted at the helping beasts. What did we do? What did we do?

What had they done? Willingly give all the herbivores to the Fleshfeasters, for free.

Magim misjudged these animals, which was becoming a dangerous habit. The group of animals that ran at them wasn’t interested in Magim or Higgis at all. They were big and strong, yes, but they had no sharp teeth or wild expression.

Instead, they had sharp spikes. Not too intimidating, but still more than Magim ever had. He only knew them from thorny plants who didn’t want to be eaten. Now that he saw this, he understood animals could also benefit from such evolution.

“Join you?” Higgis yelled. The group stopped, briefly, then continued. That probably helps your survival, Magim thought, if you don’t immediately trust every stranger.

Shortly after, though, the group stopped anyway.

“Who are you?” a bearded dragon said. His beard, also sporting thorns, was blown to full size.

“Two animals fleeing Fleshfeasters.”

He narrowed his eyes and flattened himself against the ground. “Don’t look like it.”

“Does!” Magim also narrowed his eyes and flattened himself. He seemed to have provided the right password. The others relaxed, but when Magim stepped closer, they still warily retreated.

“Still not with us.”

“Why not?”

“Too slow.” He looked to the side. “Too clumsy. Too—”

When Higgis opened his mouth to protest, the group stumbled backward even more and yelled.

“Fleshfeaster! Fleshfeaster!”

They all exploded. One blew up his beard, the other his tail, and a third the remains of gills.

“No no, this funny Higgis. Must help him! Bad eyes!”

“It okay,” Higgis mumbled. “We walk away.”

Higgis thought he walked away, but he actually walked at the group in a straight line. To his eyes, several animals disappeared, as if becoming invisible. Magim had to look intently to realize they had taken over the exact color of the swampy terrain, like … camouflage.

“We can help each other!” he said. “Fleshfeasters are there, so if we cross the Nightriver …”

Magim didn’t know what scared the Bearded Dragons more. Higgis who stumbled at them … or mentioning the need to cross a piece of rapid-flowing water. Not just any water: a river so dark you couldn’t even look into it or see the waves.

“You have plan? To cross river?”

Higgis now almost stood next to them. He’d finally realized what happened and quit walking, allowing Magim a good look from the side. He was large. He did have weird teeth.

Realization slowly sank in—belief did not.

Step one of a Fleshfeaster was to eat you. Not become your friend and protect you. Step two of a Fleshfeaster was to hide in shadows. Not run at burning lights. Fleshfeasters were monsters, right? No funny, bumbling lizards?

The group still looked at him intently. He continued talking to lose the thoughts about Higgis maybe being a Fleshfeaster. “Not yet. But we make plan to cross river.”

“He not going.” They all pointed at Higgis with probing, shaking reptile fingers. He didn’t even see it, which was probably for the best.

We’ll find something for that, Magim thought. He was allowed to step closer and became even more impressed by the group. They all had something intimidating. Something with which to protect themselves. And they all were strong and fast. How could this be?

A group like this would keep him safe forever, right? Safe. It felt like the new step one of his life. No, no, for now step one had to be heal his sickness. He could barely talk through his damaged mouth and barely walk with his damaged paws.

“I mean it,” the bearded dragon said. “We survived so long by trusting nobody. We flee Fleshfeasters for thousands of years in this area! Only the strongest and fastest survive! And you …”

I am neither, I know. “What if someone ill? Or injured? Or accidentally not strong, or … has bad eyes?”

“Then they unlucky.”

Magim refused to accept that. You could solve anything if you thought long enough. If you found the right steps and executed them.

So, how did you cross the Nightriver?

Step one: you went there. If they kept a good pace, they’d stay ahead of any Fleshfeasters.

Step two: you became a fish. No, wait, impossible. They also weren’t frogs, who didn’t drown and could leap further. What were they? Most animals here were lizards. They could climb over trees or stones.

It suddenly made sense inside Magim’s head. If they could throw enough stones into the water, they could just walk over those to the other side. Maybe they could even knock over a tree and walk over that. Nobody had to even touch a drop of water!

Step three: they arrived on the other side and lived happily ever after, without fear of being bitten to death.

The group suddenly started to move. Quickly.

Magim didn’t see the danger, but trusted them and joined. Higgis surely didn’t see the danger. He looked around helplessly and yelled “wait me!” when nobody was around to wait anymore.

The Fleshfeasters behind him were far larger than he was. Compared to them, even Higgis seemed a tiny insect to walk over.

Higgis stepped on. Magim didn’t want to see it.

He ran back.

His paws gave out, dropping him to the floor. Exhaustion. Pain. His eyes shut and he couldn’t move anymore, no matter how hard he tried. To an outsider, Magim would already seem dead—Higgis understood.

“Stay away! My snack!” he yelled with all the anger and rawness he could muster. Magim wanted to open his eyes. One quick look. Know the monsters around him, looking down on him. He went mad in the darkness, the uncertainty. Like a spider crawling over your body, but you’re not allowed to find it and take it away.

But opening his eyes would give him away. It would mean the end of him and Higgis.

Someone growled. “Tiny snack. Not interesting.”

Some paws went away, some trudged closer. Hot breath passed over Magim. Someone sniffled at his sick skin, his front paws and his tail. His muscles pulled taut, forcing himself to lay deadly still and not shake from fear.

“Chase group!” Higgis quickly said. “A hundred snacks!”

“Chasing group for years,” a voice complained. “Still wounds from thorns. Never get them.”

The ground suddenly felt wet. Softer. It used to be swamp, now he sunk into quicksand with a terrible smell.

Magim had let his pee flow out of fear. He couldn’t stop it.

Someone lifted him. Two teeth dug into his tail and pulled him up like a fish out of water. Magim had to let it happen, despite how it hurt. He held back, held back, held back, held back—

Until he was dropped again.

His eyes opened in a reflex. They were alone, many tree lengths away, as the Fleshfeasters chased the other group. Higgis bent over him.

But his sweet eyes seemed replaced with the greedy eyes of a Fleshfeaster.

Feria should not have looked. She should have resisted the temptation and instantly sought out Ardex, but she was weak. No, she was the Goddess of Nature. So she visited all areas on this side of the world, all areas where Darus’ helpers would “safely deliver” the planteaters.

And everywhere she found the same.

Some animals had immediately been devoured upon arrival. The others had fled and didn’t even dare leave their hiding place for Feria, no matter how often she promised they were safe. If we hadn’t interfered … if we’d just let these animals run away themselves …

Of course the helpers had disappeared into thin air. Belly filled for the foreseeable future, they had fled over the Impossible Wall of Darus. Away from Origina, away from the gods. The gods knew there was a world behind there—Feria had advised exploring it many times—but they had never seen it. This time, too, Feria didn’t follow, because she had to stop all the remaining “helpers”.

This had to be the Fleshfeaster nest. Their origin. They had bloomed and expanded out of her sight, until they find a way to cross into new territories.

No, no, that wasn’t it. They had been in the water for centuries. How could it be that not a single meat eating squid washed ashore before? That Feria had not seen a single dead body float on a river?

Feria considered it, again and again, as she ran back to the Green Path. What was she supposed to say? Did Darus know? She gave him the benefit of the doubt. In fact, she thought Darus would be utterly devastated if he heard the truth. His helpers, whom he trusted, had done this. Should she even say anything?

Yes, she had to. Feria was stern and formal, but only because she wanted to be honest and efficient. Eeris always talked around everything and wanted to keep the peace. Well, well, see what you get!

How many animals were now in danger? How many were currently being attacked by Fleshfeasters? And then the Nightriver, where this whole legend started, where the water was always—

Where the water was always black and opaque.

Impossible to see through.

So you couldn’t … couldn’t see what happened below the surface.

Cursed heavens! This was all part of a greater conspiracy. For years, creatures had fooled her—successfully. Meat eaters must have existed for a while, but out of sight, hidden. And her own family had something to do with it. She could not believe Darus had bad intentions.

But who would?

She stormed at Ardex and Eeris, engulfed in dust clouds, as her siblings tried to keep a large spiky Fleshfeaster under control.

“Stop! Now! Everything!”

“What?” A startled Ardex let firebreath escape.

“Darus’ helpers are not helpers at all! They are Fleshfeasters! They eat everyone we give them!”

She studied the reaction. Eeris seemed to shrink to a size insulting to a giraffe. Ardex stood still as a statue.

“Did you know?” she yelled at him.

“No!” he yelled back. “Of course not! We must capture them all and—”

“Send them to a secret place? Only you know?” Feria gave him a challenging stare.

Ardex blew another firebreath. “Why are you so eager to know the details of this place? What does it matter? I’ll gladly tell you, but—”

“Tell me.”

The eldest demigod, with bright stripes across his tiger body, seemingly became a little boy. “The Mayfill.”

“A lake? You throw animals who can’t swim anymore into a lake?”

“That’s where the first one came from! We wanted to bring them back where they belonged! The lake is well-contained, hard to escape from, and—”

“Is deadly dry and empty half the year. Wait—that’s where the first came from?”

The Fleshfeaster in Eeris’ vines growled, shook, and almost bit through her plant cage. She yelled: “The other gods didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know … what?” Eeris looked at Ardex questioningly.

Ardex stepped back. “Cosmo and I did what we found wise,” he said defensively.

“Wise?” the Fleshfeaster screeched. “For a hundred thousand years, Ardex has been killing every Fleshfeaster he meets! He pushes us back into the ocean! He brings us all to that … that … place!”

Feria sunk through her legs. Her own brother and sister, whom she admired, had captured and sentenced to death meat eaters for centuries. And all a secret, hidden from her, the one Goddess who was supposed to make these decisions.

“You are revolting, Ardex,” she spit at him. “And Cosmo too. I will not forgive this!”

The Fleshfeaster just laughed. “Ah. Let the gods devour each other.”

“Oh, get off your high throne, Feria.” Ardex created smoke with every word. “Not long ago, you proposed the exact same thing. Exterminate all Fleshfeasters.”

“I proposed it. I did not secretly do it.” Feria turned her back. She had to reach the Nightriver. The nest had to be there. She could still save lives there. And, maybe, find a better way.

“Fleshfeasters appear everywhere,” Ardex said loudly. “Once in a while, a new animal is accidentally able to consume meat. And that animal survives, because eating meat is easier than digesting plants, and gives more energy. So Cosmo and I decided to keep the world balanced and contain new meat eaters. Without the CARN mission, our entire world would have been nothing but dead bodies years ago, Feria.”

CARN. Cosmo, Ardex, Nightriver. Feria did not want to hear it. “There is an origin. There must be something that turns animals into Fleshfeasters. Like Hanah’s Soulsplitter helped us create the first plant eaters from scratch. I will find it and take it away, so we don’t have to make these terrible choices.”

Darus arrived and approached his family with tail between his legs. “I have news from all over the world. Bad news. I fear most jungles and forests have already been eaten away.”

Feria studied Darus with pity. He did not know the truth about his helpers yet. Ardex would have to tell him.

She sprinted to the Nightriver.

Step one, no two, one and a half, zero, next step, flee, can’t take a step anymore—Magim had lost the ability to think. Higgis hung above him, opening his jaws, showing the weird triangular teeth that should have been Magim’s first clue long ago. When he still couldn’t imagine that an animal would eat another animal.

Now he could imagine.

That should not be his final thought! Final thought. I thought we were immortal thanks to the gods, as long as you didn’t do anything crazy. Now he didn’t know what to do. Pray to the godchildren? Pray they would, magically, appear next to him to stop Higgis? Even if they never ventured to this side of the Nightriver? He had nobody else in his life, and nothing else to do, so what was a last thought supposed to be?

Magim had closed his eyes. Higgis’ heavy body pinned him down. He’d rather die due that illness than those teeth.

His hot, smelly breath blew across his entire face.

But the bite didn’t come.

His sick front paws only felt sniffing, a rough snout that pushed against it and then left. Could it be true? he thought with a sliver of hope. I’m too sick to eat?

Higgis roared and kicked the floor. “Why you kind to me?”

Magim was caught by surprise. He had to repeat the sentence five times before understanding. He wanted to say: I am always kind. But that wasn’t true. Could a Fleshfeaster smell lies?

“Needed you.”

A long silence.

“Me you too,” Higgis said. His eyes were still wild and his wet tongue lolled between his jaws. Magim remained a snack in his eyes. And his stomach, which hadn’t eaten meat in days.

“Then don’t eat me!” he yelled. “Eat plants!”

“Can’t eat plants!” Higgis sought a plant for demonstration, but none were left. “Is play! Chew, chew, chew, then spit out.”

He had no choice. He had to eat meat, or he died, after months of terrible hunger. Magim couldn’t even stand being hungry for a day.

Did that make it right? Magim didn’t know. He just wished it wasn’t him.

He didn’t dare look in Higgis’ eyes. Their surroundings were silent and abandoned. Calling for help would be useless. They’d hear and say “well that’s just their bad luck”. How could you ever feel safe like that?

Safety. He’d always had it and paid it no mind. Now he’d give anything to get it back.

“Work together,” he and Higgis said simultaneously.

Higgis thought he was looking at Magim, but he actually looked past him. “Eyes too bad to hunt for meat. So I play stupid. Plant eaters let me close and then …”

“You want me to help you fool other plant eaters? You’re such a—” Magim pushed his long mouth into the swamp floor to prevent saying anything more.

“No.” His tongue licked his lips. His mouth watered, some of it drooling onto Magim’s head. “Other plan. You saw Fleshfeasters size. I am snack to them! Don’t like. Also saw how Leader can touch and magically change us!”

He jumped on top of Magim and pushed him into the dirt at full force. “I go mad! I want food! I want eat you! I must eat you! Let me … let me eat your front paw.”

Magim froze until Higgis explained. “I can eat away sick skin. I eat, you healthy.”

If someone had asked days ago, Magim would have given anything to lose the infection. But giving a Fleshfeaster permission to eat a part of you was not part of that. Magim’s mind raced as much as his body was rendered immobile.

Trust? Don’t trust? First step working together is working together. Higgis is Fleshfeaster! Trust? Don’t trust? First step—

“Yes.”

He spoke too softly for Higgis to hear.

“Only sick skin.”

Higgis nodded. Magim prepared for the dumbest decision of the century. Eeris would tell legends of the stupid bearded dragon who willingly threw himself at meat eater teeth. As a warning to the others, like the warning about staying away from water to all young bearded dragons.

And warnings they needed, because too many animals would still not distrust Higgis.

A sharp teeth cut into his skin. It stung. Higgis growled with satisfaction, pressing on, cutting deeper.

But stopping himself. With a terrifying head jerk, he ripped the skin free. Magim yelled from the sudden flash of pain.

When he looked down, his paw was still there. Injured, covered in wounds and blood, but alive and without infection. Though he still felt sick, his mouth dry and no energy left.

Higgis turned away instantly. He couldn’t see Magim while eating it. As if that would drive him insane and make him do something stupid—even though surviving and eating isn’t stupid.

The lizard and bearded dragon kept each other’s company in silence. Could this cooperation actually work?

The silence was only broken by hundreds of soft steps coming their way. That group of strong animals, fleeing from Fleshfeasters for centuries now, had escaped and circled back.

“You survive! You surrounded by ten Fleshfeasters and survive!”

“Thought you dead!”

“Almost forget you!”

They waved at Magim. Other bearded dragons rapidly blew their beards to full size, and he subconsciously returned the gesture. The night was now at its darkest and they could barely see each other’s eyes. Still they managed to stay at a safe distance from Higgis, who now devoured the last bit of meat with satisfied hums.

“What an idea! Playing dead! Have more ideas? Tell!”

“Well, yes—”

“Fleshfeasters!”

It never stopped. Would this be his life now? Just running and being afraid? Indeed, the next group of animals—bigger and stronger than them—already ran at them in a straight line.

Now he understood Higgis’ words: to them even Higgis would just be a snack. Like he … like he viewed insects. No real animals. You were allowed to crush or eat them, right?

The realization grew. Magim had eaten insects, or accidentally swallowed them, his entire life. He hadn’t thought about it once. For insects were no intelligent animals like him, right? They had no face, no speech, no feelings. But really … he had been a Fleshfeaster all along.

Almost everyone was a Fleshfeaster.

Those big beasts saw them as tiny insects, without a doubt, crushing or eating them at will.

“We cross the Nightriver tonight,” Magim said with confidence. “Step one: find a tall tree along the river. Knock it down.”

Part of the group ran away.

“Step two: find large stones and throw them in the river, like making a path. Like Gray Path instead of Green Path.”

Most animals barely understood him, except his own kind, the bearded dragons. They were able to translate many parts, though, after traveling together with the other species for centuries.

Magim recognized the first Fleshfeaster of the pack. She was there when the Leader magically converted some of them. She seemed converted ten times, judging by her size! And now she had almost reached them.

“Step three: RUN!”

The entire group slithered across the soggy land as if they were one lizard. Higgis pounded and battered his way through the same space. He used his teeth to pick up animals left and right, to carry them on his back. But he ran the wrong way—like always.

“Higgis! Here!”

He heard him. But he didn’t turn around, because Higgis apparently knew exactly what he did. He ran to the back of the group. To the animals who were too slow, who were about to be eaten, who were just “unlucky”. And he carried them too.

The group split into tree searchers, stone searchers and spike searchers. The final group had to find sharp objects to help defend themselves. It was also by far the smallest group: mostly the rare animals who had spikes of their own. The others barely believed a sharp branch, or a thorny plant, would matter at all against a large bloodthirsty lizard.

Magim thought they were right—and also didn’t think big enough. The Nightriver appeared at the horizon and he asked for twenty bearded dragons with the largest beard, and a pile of sharp stones.

Magim placed the bearded dragons in a row. Their faces pointed towards the incoming Fleshfeasters, the Nightriver at their back. They’d rather not. They’d rather turn around and flee, but for now they followed Magim’s commands.

The foremost Fleshfeaster, almost as huge as their Leader, lunged at the slowest animals.

Higgis collected several stones in his mouth and looked at his friend Magim.

“Attack!” Magim yelled.

Higgis threw the stones. The bearded dragons blew their beards to full size, like a balloon that could fill itself in less than a heartbeat, and made sure their balance was steady. Some still turned around and raced to the Nightriver.

Because Higgis had purposely thrown the stones at them.

The bumped into beards, creating huge dents, causing the bearded dragons to roar and blow up even more, until the stones bounced off of the beards as if they were the strongest trampolines in the world.

They flew at the Fleshfeasters with terrifying speed. Or, well, half of them did. Higgis’ eyesight had caused the other half of the stones to land in trees and the Nightriver.

They flew faster than Magim could follow. He could not see the stones themselves—the gigantic Fleshfeasters falling to the ground, roaring, were hard to miss.

Magim noticed another feeling that had never been this strong before. Relief? Victory? The same positive energy poured into the other bearded dragons.

“It works! Continue!”

They stood up just a little more straight, with just a little better balance, as they met the next rain of stones by Higgis with less fear. A rain of stones that, after an elastic bounce, rained down on their attackers. Most did not fall down due to a tiny stone, but they now limped, or had lost one eye. They learned to avoid the stones, even if they flew faster than Cosmo himself.

Overjoyed by their success, they did not notice the Fleshfeasters encircled them.

By the time they fired the fifth stone salvo, a row of shiny triangular teeth separated them from the rest of the group.

“Fall back!”

Step one: new plan. Step two: who was left? Left and right, animals were snatched away, like how Magim snatched insects from the air without a second thought. Higgis stood beside him. The strongest bearded dragons, who had developed spikes and stronger paws, stood beside him.

Step three: do as he always did. Copy and imitate.

He gestured to the remaining animals to climb on top of Higgis. They hesitated again, their eyes distrustful. Magim had to give the right example first and climbed to the most dangerous place: Higgis’ snout. He was uncertain himself—but they were running out of time.

The others climbed Higgis too, turning him into a tree with forty branches pointing in all directions. A low, thick tree. And all branches had their own eyes, paws and tails. But under Magim’s loud commands, they could turn that shape into something that … vaguely resembled a Fleshfeaster.

When Higgis made himself tall and opened his mouth, ten animals played his gigantic teeth.

The other Fleshfeasters froze and looked at it oddly. Magim and the animals imitated that expression too, just like their posture. The closer their enemies got, the more dumbfounded they were.

“What you do?” Even such a short sentence from a Fleshfeaster echoed terrifyingly across the valley.

“I biggest Fleshfeaster of all! I eat you!”

Higgis is going too far, Magim thought. But it’s working.

More than half the Fleshfeasters turned around and trudged away. To some other piece of land where they could eat animals in peace.

Or so Magim thought.

Then they said: “Getting Leader. He biggest Fleshfeaster of all—will eat you!”

Of course Magim had just made it worse. And he had devised such a good plan! There was no time to say sorry. After this comment, the imitation fell apart, throwing all the animals around eggs as if they had burst from the same egg.

They ran to the Nightriver. The animals had finally managed to knock down a tree. It rolled left and right, almost tumbling into the black, churning waves.

A few bearded dragons finally used their wits. They grabbed stones and placed them around the tree trunk, stopping it from rolling away. Satisfied, they were the first to use the tree as a bridge and safely run to the other side.

Magim reached the shore, ready to cross himself, when he noticed his reflection in the water.

He only recognized himself after more animals had passed him by. For in his mouth, which had felt wrong and dry for so long, grew one white, sharp, triangular teeth.

I’m … I’m becoming a Fleshfeaster too, he thought. No, I am one already.

He wasn’t sure if he should still cross. One tooth would not make a difference against the monsters behind him. But if he crossed, nothing would be solved. All animals still had to flee, but for him.

Frightened eyes looked up and saw a group of Forefrogs hobble over the tree. Five left—four arrived.

From the water jumped a black silhouette, unrecognizable through the waterfalls around them. It snatched one frog with terrifying precision. Some frogs immediately fell flat on the tree to play dead; others now tried to reach the other side with one mighty leap.

They all lost to the mass of Fleshfeasters jumping out of the water. Gigantich squids, mixtures between fishes and lizards, crabs with claws sharper than spikes. The water came alive and they were born from it. The black water that had hidden all those meat eaters and secretly allowed them to grow.

The bearded dragons attacked with more stones, now aiming at the water. But the slippery sea creatures were harder to see or hit. A second bridge was placed, far from the first, and all animals aggressively pushed each other around for the privilege to use it immediately.

Magim stood next to the river, with Haggis, watching as their group shrank. Half reached the other side safely, half did not reach anything anymore.

What to do? What’s the next step?

Plant eaters had been in the minority for a while, he realized now. Meat eaters already ruled this world.

Higgis pressed his paw against Magim’s new triangular tooth. “That how started with my grandfather,” he mumbled. “You run to survive. But your grandgrandchildren have more teeth and be true Fleshfeasters.”

“If we work together, we improve our chances.”

A few Fleshfeasters suddenly turned around and started walking on land. Their fish-like bodies could only wiggle out of water for a few moments, but it was enough to snatch most unsuspecting animals.

Now they were truly encircled by meat eaters on all sides.

Their Leader had been called upon and reached the Nightriver, howling and barking at the moon.

But loud footsteps also sounded on the other side.

Those who had safely crossed the river now fled in different directions. What was once a semblance of group now only held animals that prioritized their own survival and nothing else. Rightly so, Magim thought. Still stupid.

But their new visitors were no Fleshfeasters, but gods. Angry gods.

“Stop! Now! Your goddess demands it!”

Feria lept through the air as if her beautiful pink fox fur also contained wings. She landed precisely on top of the second tree trunk bridge. Most Fleshfeasters knew what was coming and slithered back into their hiding places, as if the water had turned to quicksand that swalloed them. Some attacked her, which only gained them sudden illness or heart troubles.

This is not a Feria asking questions, Magim thought. This is a goddess giving demands. Please, please give the right demands.

“We demand the Leader of the Fleshfeasters reveal themselves to us for punishment. Or we will exterminate all Fleshfeasters!”

Her stern expression, however, fell away when she saw that Leader. Was even she afraid of him?

No, no, that wasn’t it. It was a growing disbelief. As if she realized something but refused to believe that.

The Leader stepped forward, into the light from sudden fires that broke out around the Nightriver. Its shimmering almost created the impression that it was a normal river with normal water. The light confirmed Feria’s suspicions—and she dropped her shoulders low.

Her own pet, the sweet Hespryhound, was the Leader. The First Fleshfeaster, the one who had changed the others with his touch.

“What … what … why?”

“I can’t help it. I am a meat eter, Feria, that’s how you designed me.”

“No. No no no. When I made you, there were no living creatures yet, surely no Fleshfeasters!” She lectured as if she spoke to her little kid. A kid who said something she didn’t want to hear, knowing it to be true.

“You made me based off Father’s stories, to make him happy. Stories about strong monsters, enormous giants, heroic life. And now …” The Hespryhound looked around. His gigantic tail hung between his legs and his soft ears fell flat over his cheeks. “When I was released from the Heavenly Palace, I wanted to run around, play, life on this pretty world. But all life I touched … became a meat eater.”

“No. It’s not true. You … you …” Feria punched her Hespryhound, then hugged him again. “I can’t punish—go, disappear, flee before Ardex—”

The other gods also stormed the place: Ardex, Darus and Eeris. Cosmo flew in the distance.

Slowly, the Fleshfeasters came out of the water again. All held their breath, waiting for the judgment of the gods. Who was allowed to live? Who would be exterminated?

Why did the gods have that power in the first place?

They discussed. Feria kept looking over her shoulder, to her Hespryhound who looked remorseful. Ardex made a proposal. Feria hit him in the face and stopped listening.

“Nobody touches my Hespry with their foul—”

“One dog, against thousands of animals who most fear for their life every moment now!”

“Says the god who has been killing meat eaters for years just because they accidentally existed!”

They whispered again. No animal dared move, make a sound, even breathe. What was the decision?

“They feel pain, just like us,” Eeris’ loud voice broke through that silence. “They feel fear, just like us.”

“But they are not like us!” Feria shrieked.

“Then only one conclusion remains,” Cosmo said, as he landed in a whirlwind. His supreme hearing had helped him follow the discussion, even from the other side of the world—or that’s how it sometimes seemed. “We do nothing.”

“You sound like Hanah.”

“Time and time we see that she was right.”

“Interference by the gods has only worked against us so far,” Darus spoke sadly.

“Where is Gulvi?” Ardex growled. “He should’ve seen these beasts underwater for centuries! But he probably didn’t speak up because he listened to Hanah. Now see what came of it!”

“What came of it,” said a high squeaking voice from the Nightriver, “is a strong ocean.”

A bright blue light appeared under water. Moments later, a dolphin jumped out of the water, floating in the air through a mist of water droplets. “Life on land has been static. Centuries went by and we only have a few different land dwellers! Barely able to run or defend themselves! But in my waters …”

The other gods seemed surprised by Gulvi’s appearance. Last time Magim saw him, he’d been a much smaller dolphin. And his sweet squeaky voice didn’t match his serious words anymore.

“So only one conclusion remains.” Cosmo studied the others seriously.

He should have only concerned himself with the sky, dear reader, but birds didn’t exist yet and the first insects didn’t fly high enough. So he concerned himself with everything.

The gods nodded towards each other. An understanding passed between them, unspoken and invisible to other animals, but strengthened by their magical bond.

Feria faced all frozen creatures. She swallowed and faced the ground, as if she’d find a better solution there.

“From this day forwards,” she said formally, “all meat eters will officially be accepted as just one more animal species on Somnia. The gods will not chase them or interfere. Meat eaters will now be called Carnivores, plant eaters Herbivores. Most of you have eaten insects for a while, and we will name you Insectivores.”

The predators looked around, grinning, licking their teeth. Claws were ready to snatch their neighbors. The others stepped backward. Magim heard a thousand curses for the gods, and however this night ended, they should never expect support from the herbivores ever again.

Eeris quickly walked forward and curled her neck around a shaking Feria, who cuddled her Hespryhound. Afraid that, if she let him go, they would all still attack her pet for what he’d accidentally caused.

“But all herbivores are free to flee with me,” Eeris said just as formally. “To the Rainbow Forest, where I have provided enough food for all. And I want a day’s head start.”

All crowded around the giraffe’s legs. Eeris was barely visible between the herbivores when they left. The gods had to create several walls of wind, fire and water to hold the disappointed and hungry Fleshfeasters in place.

Magim went with Eeris—when he looked back, Higgis still stood on the other side and walked away.

Higgis crept towards his target. Not for fear of being seen, or distrust in his eyesight, but uncertainty about the path he was about to take.

Was it forbidden to ask this? What if it couldn’t be done? Would the beast tell the others and make Higgis a target for all?

But of course, despite Higgis’ best efforts, he was immediately noticed by the Hespryhound. He slept with chin on the floor, but was wide awake at an instant. A true guard dog.

“Dear, erm, sir Hespry, hound, erm, oh valuable pet of the gods—”

“Say your say. Then let me sleep.”

“Everyone knows you can convert animals into meat eaters with a touch. Could you … could you do the other way around?”

Hespry frowned and sat up more straight. “You ask me to convert you back into a plant eater?”

“Yes. Yes, that my ask.”

The hound let out a long breath that forced Higgis to roll backwards. “If only I could. I tried. The first time I accidentally created a meat eater, I immediately wanted to change them back. Undo my mistake. But I couldn’t. From that moment on, I tried to keep everything balanced. To help plant eaters who were terrified and wanted to become a meat eater for safety. But the inverse?”

“I am sure. Someone waits for me. We can’t work together if I keep seeing him as food.” Higgis looked sad and whispered. “I don’t want to use my sharp teeth, but now I have no choice.”

Hespry rose to his full size, casting a deep shadow over Higgis. He placed his snout above the lizard’s head.

“Certain? I think I won’t succeed, but I can try. If I fail, I might accidentally make you the biggest meat eater there is.”

“Certain.” Higgis thought about Magim. He thought about plants, about living in the Rainbow Forest with Eeris, how never having to attack anyone or taste blood again.

Hespry’s snout gently touched Higgis’ head—and he felt everything change.

Magim was already at step five of the plan. He gathered animals to live together, so they could protect each other. It had only been a few months ago that meat eaters had been allowed to roam freely, and now they were everywhere.

The carnivores ensured there were never too many herbivores, which ensured no entire forests were eaten within a few months anymore. But if they ate too much meat, too many animals would die, and they’d let themselves go extinct. Balance, Feria called it.

Time seemed to speed up. They were still immortal, but only if you worked hard and stayed out of their jaws.

The Rainbow Forest provided plenty of food. Eeris took great care of them, though it still wasn’t enough for some. They whispered about the cruel gods, about their arrogance, about their hatred for the herbivores. They spread new rumors and legends about a faraway place, away from Origina, past the Impossible Wall and Sea, where the gods did not rule. How great and truly free life had to be there.

Darus felt endlessly guilty about pushing plant eaters into meat eater claws. Guilty enough that he promised to carry any animal anywhere, if they wanted, and promise the gods would never come and rule them in that place.

Magim studied himself every day in the Aparant River. A second tooth grew. Nobody found it strange. After crossing the Nightriver, only the strongest animals had remained—those who could defend themselves. Thus, everyone in this area had something odd or sharp: spikes, nails, a discolored skin or a tail that ended in a pointy edge.

The insects did the same thing. Each insect that moved too slowly, was pulled from the air and swallowed by bearded dragons. So only the fastest insects remained.

He had no issue with the gods. He found their decision the right one: it would make life stronger and speed up events. And now that he now what agony meant, it felt much better to be safe.

Now that it was possible to be truly in danger and almost die, it felt beautiful to walk through the forest, friends and group members around, and feel safe.

Still, nature had taken a hit. Entire animal species, too weak to defend themselves, had disappeared. Plant species went extinct. The meat eaters had changed the entire chain of food.

The gods were too late to recognize the severity of these events, for they really tried to not interfere this time. They ended up calling it the fourth Mass Extinction.

Panicked, Darus had sped up his tectonic plates. The world, which had been a single continent before, now split into multiple pieces. Even if one continent was having a terrible time, it would not influence the others.

But a clean-up could also have great consequences.

It cleared the path for lizards to grow. They kept laying larger eggs, out of which grew larger bloodthirsty lizards. Who lay even larger eggs which needed more meat to stay alive. Meat they could access now, for plant and meat eaters walked among each other, everywhere.

In the Rainbow Forest, things were calm for now. But Magim heard the areas around the Saursea and the Mouth of Din already teemed with such monsters.

The gods even invented a new name for them: dinosaurs.

And so it was that life continued…