One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 12, page 7

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Zhíno Zhudıro swam/burrowed/trotted through the trees/ocean/clouds. Wherever an animal soared, he soared with it. Wherever an animal fought for its life, he fought with it. Sometimes he fought against himself, but that was just the way of animals.

Wherever he traveled, however, something was never right. His wings never flapped quite as strong as they were supposed to. His forelegs couldn’t support quite as much weight as they should. His left pincer barely worked at all. But none of this was enough to keep Zhíno from his unceasing adventures.

Ahead of Zhíno on one of the many worlds, a familiar animal died abruptly. Overwhelmed by the sheer and complete agony, the animal keeled over. Zhíno felt the pain and died with him, but lived on elsewhere. Where had he seen that particular animal before?

Zhíno ran/flew/hopped on his continuing journey, but the energy from the dead animal raced after him. He skittered away, but the lifeforce closed the distance quickly, guided by Névazhíno Himself. The god deftly encircled Zhíno with the animal’s energy, trapping his wings and legs and fins against his body.

He knew Névazhíno must be aiding him, and yet Zhíno struggled, acting on instinct. The living energy penetrated his scales and hide, forcing its way deep into his flesh, into his very essence of being. Electricity zapped through every fiber of his body. The ocean waves lifted him high on their crests. An updraft propelled him far into the heavens. A mountain formed under his hooves, pushing ever upwards.

The energy surged around his right shoulder and his left front fetlock. Invigorating ecstasy emanated from every ounce of his existence. His forelegs pulsated with power and a blinding pleasure so great it became glorious pain. Zhíno knew he could do anything. He could do everything. He could touch the sun. He could move planets. He could be forever alone.

The throbbing energy dissipated, Névazhíno gone, but the echo of the experience remained in Zhíno’s soul.

And with that echo, he finally realized the identity of the animal who had died for him, who had sacrificed his life to make Zhíno stronger. Zhíno remembered the human being--the man--from the other world, from shortly before the madness ended. The sacrifice had been none other than the balding, fat man who had attempted to kill Zhíno with his rifle.

Zhíno frolicked through the fields on four strong legs, snorting a laugh. How appropriate that was. The old man gave his life for the one he had tried to take.

I should go thank him.

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