When I pushed my way out of the moss, I was met with an audience — dozens of tree-’puses covered the trunks and larger branches all around me. Several had even come down onto the ground, turning green to blend with the ferns and mosses.

As soon as I appeared, the closer ones began to hold out offerings. I didn’t feel much like eating, but I collected worms, snails, frogs, moths, and other creatures, thanking each ’pus for its gift. The cache included several more huge dragonflies. Their bodies were longer than my hand. I’d never seen ones so big.

No, that wasn’t quite right. I had seen huge dragonflies before — in drawings of the prehistoric Earth.

Maybe some essence-worker had made this place millions of years ago.

How many millions?

I looked at my collection of dead creatures. There were no mammals or birds.

Well, whenever the place had been made, I still had to find help. I stood up and squared my shoulders.

“Guys,” I said to the tree-’puses, “I’m going to keep heading uphill, today. I need to find a village or a road or something, someone who can help me get back to my world.”

Dozens of oblong pupils stared back at me silently.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

I gathered the food offerings up and was momentarily stymied on how to carry them. Eventually I took off the T-shirt I was wearing under my sweater and bundled the creatures up in it. Hardly ideal, but it should keep them contained. I would eat them as soon as my stomach settled.

I looked for the tree-’pus who’d accompanied me the day before and found it on the same trunk. It reached several tentacles out to me.

“Are you sure you want to come with me, little guy? I’m taking you farther and farther from your home.”

It kept stretching toward me, detaching a few more tentacles to reach out.

I was torn. It might be helpful to have the ’pus with me, but if I found help, I might have to leave it someplace where there was no good habitat for it.

The ’pus had seven tentacles stretched out to me and was clinging to the trunk with just one. Its skin was pulsing from blue and cream to pearly white.

“Okay, okay,” I said, going over so it could climb onto my hip. “I hope you understand, little fellow.”

It settled itself on my jeans. One of its tentacles snuck under my sweater, and its suckers gripped my bare skin — damp and shivery.

Waving goodbye to the other tree-’puses, I headed uphill.