Aeneas had forgotten about the human until just then, jumping slightly as he appeared from the corner of his vision to collect his needles. He was yet another stranger that had selflessly come to his aid when he needed it most—yet another stranger that had more in common with him than he expected.

The creature returned Sheik’s glance with a complacent smile that squinted his eyes and creased his brow. Yes, this one understood, and now Aeneas did as well. He’d been chasing his past for the better part of two years now, the entire time thinking himself a blank slate waiting to have old stories reprinted upon its surface; but once he got close enough to fill in the important chapters, he realized that the stone was already taken by the life of a new person, a better person, and frankly, the only person Aeneas wanted to know about.

“I am not nameless,” the alien trilled proudly, “My name is Aeneas. It has been and it always will be. What is yours?”