“...A figure grew on the dune. She didn’t appear, she didn’t come, but she grew, as if the sand itself had risen, sculpting a statue of a man. “Sandpiper,” Anrika whispered. I took out a cocked crossbow. If the sandpiper comes down for prey, I don’t think I’ll have time to shoot more than once. The thought arose, well, this cow. But Anrika stood nearby, and I was not going to retreat. Sandpipers look like people, but they are not people. They're like a parody of us. A form of life where organic matter is so tightly intertwined with mineral that it is impossible to say what is more in them. They move freely through the sand and live in underground caves. – See! – I shouted to the sandpiper, raising the crossbow. – My cow, don’t meddle!...”