Paul Morrow sat at his station in Main Mission, his posture rigid and focused. Tanya Alexander's fingers worked her console and David Kano's attention was locked on the central computer interface at his turntable desk, the machine's pulsing lights reflecting off his stoic face.

A harsh tone from the comm system snapped the steady rhythm of Main Mission. Commander Koenig's face appeared on the large viewscreen and his voice boomed through the cavernous control center.

"Alpha, this is survey team. Bill Fraser has gone missing."

Paul flicked a switch to open the channel. "Commander, we read you. Missing?"

"He was with Sandra, collecting soil samples. She left him to run some tests, when she returned, he was gone. We found only his commlock and laser."

"Sandra?" Paul gasped.

"Shaken, but unhurt. Carter picked her up in Eagle One. They're doing an aerial search for Fraser. But Paul, we need more eyes down here. Get Pete Irving in an Eagle and send him our way. The more people we have looking, the faster we'll find him."

Morrow exchanged a glance with Tanya, her expression mirroring his concern. He nodded to Kano, who continued his silent communion with computer.

"Understood, Commander. We'll dispatch another Eagle straight away." Paul hesitated for a fraction of a second before he added, "Sir, I need to remind you—the window for Exodus is closing fast. Only a few hours before deadline."

Koenig's already stern expression hardened more so. "We're not doing anything until we know what happened to Fraser. Follow your orders, Paul. Get Irving down here."

The connection severed.

Tanya asked, "Bill Fraser? Missing?"

Kano mumbled, "He probably wandered off. Fraser's attention is easily diverted."

"Kano," Paul's voice carried a tone of reprimand. "Enough of that."

The computer expert swiveled about and spoke with an air of desperation. "The commander is not acting fast enough. Computer calculates there is a high probability we will fail to execute Operation Exodus successfully."

"And what do you want me to do about it, David? John Koenig is the commander of this base, not me."

"No," Kano made a point. "You're second-in-command."

Kano's words hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Paul looked at Tanya. She looked back at him. She caught the insinuation in Kano's words, and did not raise any objections.

"We have to worry about Bill Fraser," Paul said and tapped a button on his console. A voice on the other end of the comm panel answered, "Reconnaissance Section."

"Prep Eagle Three for immediate lift off."

"Yes, sir. Who is the assigned pilot?"

Paul opened his mouth and stopped. Kano and Tanya stared at him, waiting for his reply; willing a course of action.

He answered the question: "I'll be piloting Eagle Three. With David Kano as copilot." Morrow considered further. "And two security personnel as well."

"Understood."

Paul Morrow shot up to his feet and said, "I'm going to talk to the commander in person. He must realize we cannot wait any longer. He must make a decision. The right decision."

# # #

The morning's calm shattered as Koenig and Bergman hurried through the village and burst into the elders' meeting hall. The six patriarchs flinched at the intrusion, but Chief Anansi met Koenig's glare with a serene gaze.

"We need your help," Koenig demanded, his voice echoing off the walls. "Bill Fraser, one of my people, has gone missing."

The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their lips pressed into thin lines. Silence spread through the room. No one moved to speak.

"Well?"

Anansi rose from his seat. "Commander," he began, his voice as smooth as the polished surface beneath his hands. "Perhaps your man has taken to the woods. The allure of Yomi's untouched beauty can be... compelling."

Koenig's fists clenched. "And what about Sol?" His words were sharp enough to cut through the thick air of pretense that stifled the room. "He's been missing since yesterday."

A murmur rippled through the elders. Fear? Disgust? Anger? Koenig could not discern their emotions, but the mention of missing persons was a sour taste in their mouths.

Anansi's face remained impassive, though his eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Sol is young and adventurous. He'll return when he pleases."

The commander's patience frayed. "We're not talking about some leisurely jaunt! This is serious."

"Commander Koenig," Anansi said, his tone evoking a placid stream as opposed to the turbulent waters Koenig navigated. "You must understand that we live in harmony here. Such... occurrences are not uncommon and are often self-resolving."

Koenig stepped closer, eyes ablaze with contained fury. "Bill Fraser doesn't simply wander off without his commlock or weapon." He paused for breath and lowered his voice to a menacing growl. "And I don't believe Sol does either."

Anansi changed the subject. "Your decision looms over everyone, Commander. Joining us on Yomi requires trust in our ways—trust in the natural balance of life here."

Koenig stood firm. "Trust? How can I trust when people are disappearing on your perfect planet?"

Anansi tried to sooth Koenig's nerves. "People can get lost; especially those not experienced in the wilderness around the village. Commander, I have little doubt your man will turn up, but for you to find him after the deadline to join us has passed would be a tragedy. As a leader, you must know that you cannot rest the fate of so many on one person."

Koenig leaned toward their host. "I don't know how you do things down here, but on Alpha, we value every life. We've survived by looking out for each other; an extended family. If something has happened to one of my people here and I find out you know more than you're telling, then God help—"

"John."

Helena's voice halted his rant as she entered the chamber. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch grounding him. "I think we all want the same thing here—to find Bill and to decide if Yomi should be our new home."

The elders relaxed... a little. Helena looked at Anansi with a respectful nod. "Of course, you and your people would want us to find our missing friend. It's in everyone's best interest."

Anansi dipped his head in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting Helena's with an unreadable expression. Her intervention had diffused the immediate threat of confrontation.

Helena addressed Koenig, the undercurrent of urgency in her voice impossible to ignore. "Anansi is right about one thing—time is not on our side. We have much to do if we're to consider this planet as a new home for Alpha."

Koenig's jaw worked silently as he processed her words, his eyes shifting from Helena to the impassive faces of the village elders.

Professor Bergman, who had been observing the exchange with a pensive frown, chimed in. "Helena has a point. Sandra was in the middle of some important work." He turned toward Dr. Vincent, who had been standing by the door, listening. "Benjamin, perhaps you and Helena should carry on with Sandra's soil analysis while we sort this out. We have what? Three hours until we should activate Exodus?"

Doctor Vincent agreed, his scientific curiosity overtaking his concern for their missing comrade.

With a last glance at Anansi and the other elders, Helena guided Koenig and Bergman from the meeting hall. The outside air felt liberating after the stifling tension inside.

Once clear of the hall and out of earshot of any villagers who might be listening, Koenig let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"They aren't interested in helping us. They don't care."

Professor Bergman crossed his arms. "Hmm, I don't know if I'd put it that way, John."

"What do you mean, Victor?"

"It's not that they don't care; it's that they don't want to think about it. As if we've struck on something that is taboo."

"Then what kind of people are they?"

Ben Vincent dared to offer his opinion: "Commander, it could be part of their culture. It's possible that there's some tradition that requires people to leave the village; to meditate or go on a journey of self-exploration and that such a thing is so personal that discussing it is considered impolite."

Helena said, "That's a possibility."

Koenig, however, did not agree. "I appreciate your attempt to explain it away, but I'm not buying it."

"Whatever the case," Bergman said. "I don't think the villagers are going to be much help."

"No," Koenig agreed. "I don't think they'll be any help whatsoever."

"But John, I hate to press the issue," Victor said, scratching his chin as he spoke. "If you decide on Exodus—"

Koenig waved his hand. "Yes, Victor, I know. Everyone is so worried about leaving Alpha that they don't seem to care about our missing man."

He did not intend to wound, but he did. The expression on their faces went blank.

He reconsidered. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She touched his shoulder and, without speaking, forgave him that sin.

"Okay then, we search and we prepare. Helena," he said, his tone laced with fatigue rather than anger. "Keep me updated on what you find with those samples. Victor, with every test we run, it becomes more apparent that Yomi is right for us. So how come I'm not sold on the idea?"

"Which answer do you want?" he asked his commander. "The one from the scientist, or from the man who has known you for a long time?"

"I'm not choosy. I'll take both."

"On one hand, this is a momentous decision. And it could be your final decision as the commander of moonbase Alpha. It is only human nature for you to be hesitant."

"I'm assuming that's the scientist in you. So go ahead, Victor. What do you say?"

The professor tilt his head, bit his lip, and then replied, "Well, John, your intuition isn't always perfect, but I've found it's best to take notice when you've got something gnawing at you."

He said to Helena. "You and Ben get going. We need every last piece of information before pulling the trigger."

She smiled, nodded to Dr. Vincent, and the two of them walked away.

Koenig grabbed his commlock and pushed a button. "Carter."

The pilot's voice answered: "Nothing yet, commander, but we're still sweeping the first set of grid points."

"Pete Irving in Eagle Three should be joining you soon. Coordinate with him."

Koenig silenced the communicator.

Professor Bergman said, "I have this feeling you have something in mind."

"Intuition, Victor?"

"Experience."

Koenig looked around to make sure no one eavesdropped on their conversation.

"I want to go back to that colony ship. Maybe we can find answers there."

# # #

Eagle One cut through Yomi's sky, its engines roaring in a steady note. Alan gripped the controls, his attention locked on the horizon. Beside him, Sandra monitored the readouts, wearing an expression of grave concern.

Below the spaceship, Yomi unfurled in a living tapestry woven with hues of emerald and jade. The canopy of trees formed a sea of green, their leaves glinting with droplets from a recent rain shower that sparkled under the twin suns like scattered diamonds. The foliage was occasionally broken by splashes of color where flowers bloomed in wild abandon.

Alan steered the ship over a meadow where tall grasses swayed in the breeze, an undulating dance of light and shadow. It was a stark contrast to the emptiness of space to which he was accustomed—the silent vacuum replaced by this symphony of nature.

Sandra's eyes traced the patterns of growth below, noting how the trees congregated in groves, their branches intertwined as if in communal support. There were no roads or buildings to mar the perfection, only the occasional glint of water as it gathered momentarily in small, clear pools before succumbing to Yomi's thirsty soil.

A cluster of bright-winged creatures burst from a thicket, their flight painting streaks of iridescent blues and fiery oranges across the sky. Sandra caught her breath at the sight.

"Look at that," Alan gasped, echoing Sandra's awe as he dipped lower for a better view.

"It's like nothing we've ever seen."

"We're going to live here, you know," Carter said.

"The commander has not yet made that decision."

"C'mon San. So far, we haven't come across one problem."

"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe Bill Fraser came across a problem."

Carter offered no reply.

The airship skimmed over a slope blanketed with flowering shrubs. Yomi was not just another celestial body; it was an untouched masterpiece—a slice of Eden waiting for them. They flew on, carried forward by more than solely the engines—propelled by a sense of wonder.

"We've swept grid thirty-six," Alan announced, breaking the spell cast on them by the sights. "Nothing but grass and lots of trees. Beautiful trees, but no sign of Bill."

Sandra said. "It's like he vanished into thin air."

The radio crackled to life, a new voice interrupting the silence. "Eagle One, this is Eagle Three on descent from orbit."

Alan's eyebrows shot up. "Paul? Thought Pete Irving was piloting Three."

"There was a change in plans." Morrow's words carried a calm authority that felt oddly comforting.

Sandra leaned forward and spoke, "Paul, it is good to hear your voice."

"How about you, Sandra? Are you alright?"

She paused, the question pressing down on her. "I can't stop replaying it all... wondering if I missed something with Bill. I should not have left him alone."

"You did everything right," Paul assured. "We're going to find him."

Alan listened to their exchange, noting the tremble in Sandra's voice that she couldn't quite hide. He glanced at her and offered a reassuring smile before transmitting, "Bill's one of my pilots, Paul, and I want to find him more than anyone. But I can't help wondering what's the holdup on Exodus?"

Morrow paused before replying, his voice revealing frustration. "The commander is refusing to give the go-ahead."

Carter's frown deepened into a look of shock. "But why? I'm telling you, Paul, this place is perfect. Great food, fresh air, and plenty of land. We can raise families and live like normal human beings again."

"That's what it looked like from Alpha. Now that I'm here, I can see why everyone is talking about this place. You were right, San."

She blushed a little.

Paul went on, "That's why I came down myself; to move the process along."

Alan nodded in approval as resolve settled in. "Let me know if you need help with that. I'm with you."

Paul let out a heavy sigh. "I'll do a quick sweep and then land to talk to Koenig. Can't say I'm looking forward to that conversation."

Alan watched as Eagle Three flew towards Yomi's surface. He knew what they had found here was rare—a chance at a new beginning—and he hoped Paul could make Koenig see that, too.

# # #

The moonbuggy kicked up sprays of dust as it rumbled across the uneven terrain of Yomi, its six wheels navigating the alien landscape doggedly. Koenig gripped the steering handles while Bergman held on to the side rail, his eyes taking in the colossal structure looming before them.

The ancient colony ship stood as a testament to time, its hull weathered by the centuries that had passed since its fateful crash. As they circled the behemoth, the two men shared a silent exchange; there was a story here, buried in the silence of its abandoned corridors and the rust that clung to its metal skin.

Koenig brought the buggy to a gentle stop. They dismounted and approached the ship. The sight was humbling—the sheer size of it dwarfed their human forms. Vines, like nature's reclaiming fingers, snaked along the sides of the structure. Despite its age and the evidence of reclamation by the planet's flora, an eerie preservation lingered.

Bergman raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the hull. "Curious," he murmured. "You'd think they'd have used more of this metal for their homes."

Koenig said, "Makes you wonder what they value... or fear."

They shared a look, an unspoken agreement that they were standing on the precipice of discovery—or perhaps danger. With no further words needed, they moved toward an entryway that yawned open like a dark mouth.

The interior was dimly illuminated by shafts of light piercing through gaps in the broken ceiling, casting ghostly shadows on walls lined with control panels and screens long dead. The air was stale but breathable—a relic atmosphere trapped within a tomb.

Bergman's mechanical heart gave a steady beat, unfazed by their surroundings as he swept his handheld scanner across their path. The device chirped.

"The structural integrity is, well, acceptable," Bergman commented as he peered at his scanner. "Though I wouldn't recommend any vigorous shaking."

Koenig let out a half-hearted chuckle. They continued their exploration, footsteps echoing in the hollowness of a ship that once harbored life and dreams of new beginnings.

As they ventured deeper into the vessel's belly, Koenig couldn't shake off Anansi's words about power fading. Here in this ship lay proof that even great civilizations had their dusk. He wondered about Alpha's own twilight and whether Yomi would be their dawn or another false light leading them astray.

"Commander," Bergman called out from where he stood by a console covered in alien script. "Look at this."

Koenig joined him, peering over his shoulder at what seemed like a map etched into the panel—a star system with one planet highlighted.

"Their home," Bergman whispered.

Koenig eyed the charter for a moment and then said, "Let's see what else they left behind."

After traversing a long corridor, the ceiling and walls pulled back, revealing a vast room; a massive artificial cavern. Inside, hundreds of coffin-sized chambers, aligned in rows, filled the space.

Bergman moved from one to another, his eyes reflecting the flickers of what little light pierced the darkness through punctures in the hull. He wagged his fingers and said, "This is fascinating. John, I think these are sleeping chambers."

Koenig snapped his fingers. "You mean suspended animation?"

"Yes. Like the Kaldorians. These were meant to cradle life across the stars," he mused, running his fingers over a glass canopy clouded with age. "A journey not measured in miles, but millennium."

Koenig surveyed the damage. The lids on the majority of chambers were open, the insides empty. Others were shattered, their protective shells compromised by time or trauma. Beneath one cracked glass canopy lay a skeleton, its bones reduced to fragile remnants. The commander felt a shiver snake up his spine; death was a companion he knew too well, yet here it seemed more poignant.

"Time wasn't kind to all of them," Koenig said, eyeing the skeleton.

Bergman noted, "Anansi did say that some died in the crash. But hundreds survived and made their way out into this planet."

"I get the impression this world was not the original destination of this ship. I suppose they got lucky," said Koenig, but it didn't sound as if he believed his own words.

A noise shattered their contemplation—a scraping sound that ricocheted off the metal walls. Koenig's hand reflexively went to his sidearm, muscles tensing as he scanned for any sign of movement.

Bergman looked up fast, his philosophical musings interrupted by the intrusion of reality. "We're not alone," he stated, unnecessary yet somehow needing to be said.

They stood back-to-back, a practiced maneuver born from countless drills and real threats faced together. Koenig's eyes darted from shadow to shadow while Bergman's scanner came alive in his hands, its screen casting an eerie glow on his face.

More noise. It sounded like footsteps. As had been the case when they'd first approached the ship yesterday.

"Sol?" Koenig spoke his thought aloud. Victor shrugged.

Koenig led them out the other side of the sleeping chamber to a smaller room with a concave interior and found they were not alone.

The room before them bore the scars of transformation. Once a control center for the sleeping pods, its purpose had been altered, its soul repurposed. Monitors and control panels lay dismantled, their innards exposed and reassembled into geometric patterns on the floor—circles entwined with squares, a mosaic of damaged technology.

The villager named Dana knelt at the center of this shrine, her body folded into a posture of prayer or meditation. Her presence, a splash of color against the monochromatic backdrop of discarded circuitry, spoke of rituals that defied their understanding.

Koenig's entrance was silent, but not unnoticed. Dana didn't flinch at the sound of their approach; her focus remained tethered to the shrine. It was only when Bergman cleared his throat that she acknowledged them with a tilt of her head, an acceptance of their intrusion.

Her eyes, rimmed with red, told tales of recent tears. Sorrow hung about her like a shroud; she cradled it close, yet offered it up to them without reservation. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if holding onto something precious, something intangible.

Koenig felt the urge to speak, but hesitated. This was sacred ground to her, so he tread lightly. Bergman remained muted as well—his respect for other cultures' customs evident in his stillness.

"You came here looking for answers," she broke the silence.

"Your name, it's Dana, isn't it? I'm sorry," Koenig said, his voice bouncing off the walls. "It was not our intention to interrupt."

Dana shook her head. "You didn't," she assured in a voice laced in melancholy. "My prayers... they're already lost in the wind."

Koenig exchanged a glance with Bergman, who raised an eyebrow—a silent inquiry into what brought Dana to such depths.

"It's Yomi," she continued, her gaze falling upon the shrine once more. "The planet gives and takes... and yesterday it took someone dear to me."

Her words hung heavy between them—ominous and laden with meaning that stretched beyond the simple cycle of life and death.

"Someone from the village?" Bergman asked.

Dana nodded, the movement filled with resignation. "The planet's embrace is eternal," she said cryptically.

Koenig felt a chill creep along his spine. Her words echoed Anansi's earlier musings about balance and power fading.

He guessed, "Sol? He was important to you."

"He was…" she gathered her strength. "He was my son. My only son."

Koenig recalled Dana helping to set the table at yesterday's feast, long after Sol had disappeared. Her demeanor had not indicated any loss, any sadness.

"I don't understand. We saw you at the banquet and—"

"You saw what I am expected to show. What all of us are expected to show. Do not speak of it. Do not talk of it. Only acceptance is permitted."

"Accept what, Dana?"

Instead of answering his question, she drew their attention to the geometric shapes that someone had long ago crafted from the remains of dead technology.

"We've changed who we are, so as to live here. We were an adventurous people, driven by what we believed to be a divine purpose to explore, to venture out into the universe; to better ourselves by finding our place in the grand scheme of existence. Invention. Ingenuity. Bravery. Those were the words of our religion. At least, that's what my parents taught me, as their parents had taught them. My family has kept the tradition, but it will end now with no child to teach."

"Dana," Koenig said. "I don't understand."

Professor Bergman, however, guessed. "Before you crashed here, your culture practiced a different set of beliefs. Is that right? Different from what the elders preach today."

"They preach acceptance of your fate. They preach that we are just leaves on the wind, carried wherever it might take us; forward, or to ground to rot."

"But you come here, to this makeshift shrine," Bergman said. "And you brought your son here. To keep the old flames burning. To honor your ancestors."

She shook her head. "Not merely to honor. To find hope. To believe that we were once something more and that maybe we can be something more again. Sol hoped you would be our salvation. He even convinced me that it might be possible."

Commander Koenig asked, "How could us coming here to live be salvation for you?"

"Not you living with us; but us leaving with you."

Koenig and Bergman shared a confused glance before Koenig said, "Our moon is unguided, Dana. You talk about leaves on the wind; we are helpless, at the mercy of space. Any day could be our last."

"Coming here will not change that, commander."

"I don't understand."

She stood fast, spurred by a sudden burst of energy, energy born of desperation. She clutched his tunic and asked, "Is it true? You do not have the resources on your moon for more people? You can't take any of us with you?"

"Yes, that's true. We don't know if we'll have enough food to survive from one day to the next. If any piece of our aging equipment breaks down, it could spell the end for us. Suffocation, poison in the air, starvation, tainted water… a thousand ways to die."

His words sapped her will. Her eyes cast down, and she said, "On Yomi, there is but one way to die. And it stalks you. Always. It is stalking you at this very moment."

Koenig grabbed her by the shoulders, fear metastasizing to anger.

"What happened to your son, Dana? Where is Sol?"

She dared not look him in the eye as she answered with one part pain and one part shame.

"He is one with Yomi."

# # #

North of the village, Dr. Russell and Dr. Ben Vincent trod through a maze of towering ferns, their fronds unfurling towards the sky like green flames. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and ripe berries, a perfume that seemed to saturate every breath.

Helena stooped, scooping up a handful of the soil, feeling its coolness on her palms. It crumbled as she examined it; her gaze searching for something unseen. Ben followed suit, kneeling beside her with his own sample kit.

"This place," Ben began, his voice tinged with awe, "it's like something out of a dream. You know?"

Helena nodded but remained silent, her thoughts preoccupied with the puzzle presented by Sandra's initial findings.

Ben continued to ruminate aloud as he placed soil into small vials. "I mean, San finding DNA in the dirt—it's gotta be just remnants from plants or insects. Right? It's probably nothing."

She finally looked at him, her eyes betraying a glint of concern. "We can't assume anything until we have more data." Her voice carried a note of caution that Ben knew better than to dismiss.

"I hope we can call this place home," he said, his words carrying an undercurrent of longing.

The surrounding landscape seemed to echo his sentiment. The twin suns arched higher into the sky, chasing shadows across an orchard where fruits dangled like jeweled pendants. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves into a hushed applause.

Helena stood up and dusted off her knees. "Let's keep collecting samples," she said with resolve. "We need to understand this planet inside and out before we make any decisions about our future."

Helena paced a few steps ahead, the samples clinking in her bag. The serene hush offered a deceptive calm. She looked back to Ben, about to comment on the unusual coloration of the leaves, when she noticed his posture stiffen, an expression of mild confusion spreading across his face.

"Helena, I think I'm—" Ben's words were cut short as his feet betrayed him, the ground swallowing one boot and then the other. A chuckle bubbled up from his throat, born from disbelief rather than humor. "This is weird. I'm stuck."

Helena retraced her steps with a light-hearted roll of her eyes, ready to tease him about watching where he was going. But the lightness drained from her face as she saw the soil around Ben's feet churn like liquid. Her instincts flared with alarm.

"Try to lift your feet slowly," she instructed, her voice sharpening.

Ben obliged, but as he strained against the pull, panic laced his efforts. His laugh soured into gasps as he realized his strength was no match for the force gripping him.

The ground turned traitor beneath him; ivy-like barbed tendrils sprouted from the softened soil, wrapping around his sinking legs and twisting upwards with an organic malevolence. Ben's hands clawed at anything within reach—roots, branches, clumps of grass—his fingers desperate for a lifeline.

"Helena!" His voice cracked as he called to her.

She lunged forward, extending her hand in a desperate bid to pull him free. Their fingers brushed—a fleeting touch of hope—but the ground claimed him with a jealous fury. Helena's heart hammered against her ribs as she watched helplessly.

Ben drew his laser and fired into the ground, again and again, beams searing through the air with futile energy. The tendrils seemed to absorb each shot, unfazed by the laser's might.

"No!" Helena screamed, throwing herself forward again to grasp at Ben's arms as he sank up to his ribs in Yomi's ravenous embrace.

"Help me! Helena!" Ben's pleas tore through the tranquility of the grove.

The tendrils tightened their grip, weaving up his chest, his throat… his face… thorns cutting into his skin… pulling with an inexorable power that defied nature. In mere moments that stretched into eternity for Helena, Ben was consumed, his outstretched hands grasping for salvation that would not come.

Then he was gone.

The soil closed over him with an obscene normalcy, as if nothing had transpired—no struggle, no horror—leaving behind only undisturbed ground and Helena's ragged breaths.

Silence returned to mock her anguish. And in that silence, she found a new terror. The ground itself had become a threat. Every step she took… would it devour her as well?

She stumbled off, sobbing, discarding her sample bag, low-hanging branches scratching at her skin like talons as she fled.

Yomi was alive. And Yomi hungered.