Halfway to his mountain Zogrusz climbed a small hill and gazed back at the town. There had been no alarm raised behind him, no spear-carrying warriors rushing in pursuit, so it seemed that the old man – the priest, he’d realized, after having more time to sift through the knowledge he’d absorbed – had decided to let him go. Despite being the servant of what he believed to be a fearsome god, the fellow didn’t truly seem all that terrible. For some reason that pleased Zogrusz.

“They are interesting, aren’t they?”

Zogrusz blinked in surprise, glancing down. Sitting on its haunches in the grass beside him was a cat, its little face turned up to regard him. It had golden eyes and pale fur the color of the moon. The animal must have followed him from the town.

“I didn’t know your kind could speak,” Zogrusz said, squatting down beside the animal.

“Not all of us can, Zog,” said the cat in a voice that seemed far too deep for such a little creature. Then it stretched languidly and yawned, its claws kneading the ground.

Bemused, Zogrusz ran his hand down its fur. The sensation was pleasant.

“The question arises,” the cat continued, arching itself into his touch, “why you didn’t shed your disguise in the town, particularly after that awful old man threatened you. Stomp about and send the poor little humans fleeing.”

“Humans,” Zogrusz repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth as he straightened. “That’s what you call them?”

“That’s what they are,” stated the cat, rising and coming to rub itself against his leg. “They don’t really think of themselves as a distinct species, so it’s probably why you haven’t drawn the term from their own minds.”

“I see.” Zogrusz frowned, suddenly realizing he felt no wash of emotions and memories flowing from this animal. “Why can’t I look into your thoughts, cat?”

“Call me Rhas,” it replied. “And it’s because I don’t want you to. It’s a bit rude, honestly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, you clearly don’t know any better.” The cat batted at a bug bumbling past its head. “But let’s not get too far away from my question. Why didn’t you terrify those humans down there?”

Zogrusz shrugged. “They all seemed to be having a nice day. It would have been a shame to upset them.”

The cat was quiet for a long moment, and when Zogrusz glanced down he found it was peering up at him with an almost unsettling intensity.

“Is something the matter?”

“You are not what I expected at all in an Eldritch Horror.”

“Is that what I am?” Zogrusz asked, his interest rising. “An Eldritch Horror?”

“I thought so,” the cat replied slowly. “But now I’m less sure. To be honest, I assumed you would be a lot more . . . horrible.”

“Huh,” Zogrusz said, his gaze drifting to the faint outline of the moon in the darkening sky. “Rhas, please tell me more about Eldritch Horrors.”

“My knowledge is limited,” the cat admitted. “Your kind are rare, and usually exist very far from here. But occasionally you do venture forth, especially when young . . . and growing.”

“I’ve seen them,” Zogrusz murmured, remembering the sleeping Old Ones. “I don’t think they hunger as I do. What could possibly satisfy such vast creatures?”

“If one of them wakes the universe trembles in fear,” the cat said matter-of-factly. “At least those pockets of the universe that can feel fear. For that is what Eldritch Horrors feed upon, as I’m sure you’ve come to realize. Terror. Dread. Panic.” It cocked its head to the side as it regarded him. “Have you noticed the different flavors of each?”

Zogrusz nodded slowly. “That first night, in the clearing, when the People fled before me . . . the taste was so sweet it made me dizzy.”

“Something similar happens to humans when they eat sugar cane or certain overly sweet fruits,” the cat explained. “It is a great rush, but the effects recede quickly. If you instill panic it will be delicious, but not nearly as filling as other forms of fear.” The cat sat back on its haunches and pointed its face in the direction of the stone town. “The humans down there still fear you, but it is more of an existential dread. You are a vague presence used to threaten them with punishment.”

Zogrusz concentrated on the river of fear flowing from the town. “You’re right, it is different than before. Now it is not so sweet, but I do feel more . . . sated.”

The cat swished its tail and Zogrusz sensed it was satisfied with what he’d said. “Good. So if you turn into a giant monster and go stomping around, you will get that flood of delicious fear, but you’ll soon find yourself hungry again. And then it becomes a vicious cycle where you need to create even more panic, but the effects will dissipate faster and faster. Eventually, you’ll spend all your time chasing humans around to stay alive. What you have right now down in that village is far more . . . sustainable. Not as tasty, but much better in the long run. And that’s why I first asked you why you hadn’t transformed into your true form in the town and started a mad panic. I thought you must know about your nature, but apparently you do not.”

“It just didn’t seem like the proper thing to do,” Zogrusz said, peering with interest at the talkative little cat. “Who told you all this?”

Rhas raised a paw and began licking it in a way that Zogrusz could only describe as arrogant. “I’m a cat,” it said airily. “We are very perceptive. And intelligent. Also, as the true masters of those humans down there, I would prefer if you didn’t send them all rushing around in a blind terror. Far more likely then that they’ll forget to feed us.”

“Oh? What do you eat?”

“Plenty of things,” the cat replied. “Mice. Fish. Birds. And bits of souls. We draw a little away from humans by rubbing our heads against them while creating a disturbance in the psychic realm through vibrations that fracture the foundation of their souls.”

“How ingenious.”

“Yes, well, you can see how we don’t want the status quo disrupted too much. Humans make fantastic livestock, but it's best if they don’t suspect they’re being fed upon.”

“I do see,” Zogrusz said, looking at the moon-colored cat with newfound respect.

“Wonderful,” the cat said brightly. “It seems we understand each other. I’ll be off then, Zog. There’s a sunny spot calling to me and a nice old lady who usually stops by in the afternoon with fish heads.”

“Goodbye,” Zogrusz said. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Rhas. I hope I can meet you again.”

“Very likely,” the cat replied, and then with a twitch of its tail that might have been a farewell it scampered down the little hill, quickly vanishing into the long grass.

“What a nice fellow,” Zogrusz murmured as he turned back to his mountain.