It happened at a moment like any other, in the being's small world.

  There was nothing different in the ground, always steady and trustworthy, allowing it to burrow when it was scared.

  Nothing different in the air, heavy and stale. Carrying faint whispers of things happening far away.

  There was also nothing different in the great Current, slugging forward all around, always nourishing it.

  Even when the foreign invader fell into the being, that wasn't so peculiar. It happened at times: things would appear suddenly, rocking its small world. However, ultimately, they left. Or became part of the ground.

  But this invader pinned it. Trapped it. And couldn’t be flowed around as usual.

  The being was stuck and steadily drawn inside.

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  Somehow, this invader was different and had this terrifying power.

  Or did it?

  It didn't feel capable of doing anything on its own, after all. Not like the errants could. It didn't have that drive.

  No, this invader felt more like the ground. Like the air. And those never forced its body into themselves. They couldn't force it to do anything at all.

  What if it was the being itself that was different? That had changed?

  Maybe it had, because it felt new things.

  It felt capable of making a choice. To keep going, or go back to what once was.

  And it knew that pushing through would bring something different. Something unprecedented.

  It would also mean abandoning the small world and its safety. And the being really liked those. It was a simple thing and was happy with what it had.

  But it wasn't satisfied.

  It was enjoying the novelty and the ability to choose. And if it didn’t back down, if it kept going...

  Would it ever be content in this small corner now, knowing that there was a magnificent new world out there?

  Where there was more to taste. And choices to make.