Minutes later and halfway across the valley, the Shadow sat huddled in a drainage pipe that ran under a one-lane dirt road. Water trickled in a small stream near its feet. The shadow had learned to avoid the vehicles with four wheels and bright lights, just as it had learned to avoid most of the inhabitants of this new world, especially those who walked upright. Worst of all were those who traveled in packs.
The minutes ticked by and the Shadow remained motionless until it was sure it was alone. It turned its head to the sky as if listening for something. The star patterns in the sky were different here on this world, but their consistency made them fairly easy to navigate. It leaped from the roadside out into the field and scurried silently through thick dogwood bushes and over fallen tree limbs like a fog moving across the valley floor. Once the Shadow reached the edge of a small wood, it leaped effortlessly onto the lowest branch of a tree and climbed to the top limb.
Its skin was black as ink, a total absence of color. Anyone walking by would just see a continuation of the night sky. From its perch, the Shadow looked out across the valley, its head swiveling almost 360 degrees. To the south, a thin haze of light pulsed above the town. To the east, about a half mile away, sat a farmhouse shrouded in darkness. The Shadow made a high-pitched sound, inaudible to the human ear, and waited silently for a response. Seconds passed and then, from the direction of the farmhouse, a dog howled in return.
The Shadow leaped from its perch and landed harmlessly on the ground thirty feet below. It sped on all fours across the grassy knoll in the direction of the howling dog. In a little over a minute, the Shadow reached the edge of the large dirt driveway that encircled the farmhouse and crouched behind an ancient rusted tractor covered in weeds and knee-high grass.
The farmhouse was silent and dark except for a curtain that flapped through an open window on the second floor. Across the driveway, an old Australian shepherd wagged its tail playfully. The dog made a low, gruff sound—almost like an old man mumbling—and pawed at the ground in an invitation to play.
The Shadow emerged from behind the tractor and glided across the driveway toward the dog. The dog, famous in the area for chasing anything with four wheels and barking at the rustling of leaves, rolled over quietly in return and looked up expectantly as the Shadow approached. The two creatures stared at each other for a moment, then the Shadow reached out and scratched the dog behind the ears. Within seconds the dog was asleep and happily dreamed of chasing small lights that floated in the night sky.
The Shadow stood unmoving, taking in all sounds and smells and changes in the wind. It was hungry and growing weak. It knew it needed to eat soon but could find no food here that would sustain it.
Then a new sound emerged from the second-story window—a low rumble followed by a hiss. The sound grew louder as it repeated the same pattern: rumble then hiss, rumble then hiss.
The Shadow made its way toward the side of the house, through a set of bedsheets hung out to dry in the night breeze, then leaped twenty feet straight up to the windowsill on the second floor. What the Shadow did not see was a small glass object, an ashtray, that rested on the edge of the windowsill. When it landed, the Shadow’s left foot struck the edge of the ashtray and sent it flying across the room to crash against the far wall. The rumble and hiss the Shadow had gone to investigate was gone, now replaced by a startled moan, then silence, then a scream.