A voice rose out of the darkness; a voice like stone and metal. Peter couldn’t be sure whether he heard it through his ears or through his skin.

You are that which crawls upon the Earth. You congratulate each other on how far you have risen from the dirt, but this is only because you have the energy to spare in times of plenty. The society you wear is a threadbare cloak, to be discarded when times are lean. Underneath it you are all tooth and claw and bone. A winter comes, and no hive hast thou of hoarded sweets.

“I know what I am,” said Peter. “What are you?”

I am that which preys upon that which crawls upon the Earth.