The young Sasquatch was dreaming again, but this time he was not flying... he was falling. Not through the air, but backwards through time itself.

     Around him the world rushed as he fell, the scenes constantly changing.

     He saw the land as his father had seen it, then his father’s father, and on, spinning slowly as the world spun, seeing the cities of the Hairless Ones shrink to towns, then villages, followed finally by forests and open grasslands filled with grazing herds of herbivores. 

     For a long time, as he fell, he saw the land as it should be, wild and untamed. Here, occasional groups of wandering Hairless Ones passed by, never staying long enough in one place to damage the land beyond repair and only ever taking enough for their tribe to live on.

     In fact, he saw that these wandering nomads did good for the Sasquatch, by using fire to open up the grassland they created plenty of feed for large game.

     Mostly the roaming bands of Hairless Ones respected the Sasquatch tribes, obeying the tree-break signposts they came across. Some even traded woven wicker baskets full of fish for large game the Sasquatch had brought down.

     Sometimes they fought, sometimes they even loved.

     He was still falling, retracing his line into the past. He noticed subtle variations in his body as he fell, his brow slowly grew thicker and lower, his arms longer and his face ever more unlike the Hairless Ones as they flashed past. As his body changed he felt strands of something pulling free from his body, but it was not hair, in fact his body grew noticeably hairier. It was whole strands of DNA leaving him... Hairless One’s DNA.

     He fell faster, and the world grew colder. He could sense the great walls of ice to the north. Massive, hairy beasts of all types, carnivores and herbivores lived and died on the great plains and in the deep, ancient forests.

     Finally, no more Hairless Ones walked the land and it became truly wild. 

     The ice retreated, then advanced, retreated and advanced in a complex dance that shaped and reshaped the land, over  and over. Through it all his body changed with the dance, the long strands continuing to fall away from his body. 

     Sometimes he was smaller, sometimes larger, but generally he shrank in size and power until eventually the ice dance stopped and the land was a hot, humid swampland. He felt markedly different here, his teeth were no longer so flat and square, he could distinctly feel pronounced canines in his jaws.

      And his head was smaller too… more like a Gugwe than his own.

     He spent a lot of time wading through the swamps, holding his long arms high as he looked for food. 

     He continued to fall into the past and his legs started to feel different, it was harder to walk, his hips having to swing from side to side as he waddled along in the water.

     Then the water was gone and he found himself on all fours. His face protruded now and he felt more at ease in the trees than on the ground. He was a lot smaller, lighter, more nimble as he swung and leapt through the trees in that tropical world. It dawned on him that he had a tail! It flew behind him like a rudder, helping to steer his long leaps and swings through the tall branches.

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     Abruptly the world changed dramatically, flashing through a period of devastation and destruction, the great forests mostly mile upon mile of blackened ash. Only along the coastlines and protected patches deep in ravines were there any trees left surviving. Here life fought and struggled against life. He fought against other mammals, much like himself, small and fast. Unlike most of the others, his long fingers were better suited to the surviving trees than the ground, and he was an excellent swimmer with his downward slanting nostrils and hooded nose, giving him a another slight advantage. Still the DNA stripped free as he continued to fall through time and still he felt the world change as his body did. With a flash he saw the world burn in reverse to reveal the forest again, covered with trees.

 

     But not the trees he knew. These were tougher looking, with needles rather than leaves or wide, spreading ferns that shaded the ground.  Here immense herbivores larger than the trees roamed through the forest, long necks pulling off mouthfuls of tough foliage at a time. No grass grew anywhere in this world.

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     Now he felt himself to be very small, especially compared to the monsters that stomped through the land. He scuttled about catching insects and grubs with his dexterous fingers, trying to avoid the multitude of fast-running carnivores that ranged in size from not much larger than himself to so large that one giant clawed foot could crush him into dust.

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     A massive dragonfly flew past, making him jump for it, but he missed. He chased after it, jumping and leaping as it buzzed overhead. He swung and leapt up onto a moss-covered boulder to get closer and found himself face to face with a giant carnivore. It had caught the dragonfly in its  toothy maw, the wings sticking out either side. It shook the wings free and swallowed, it’s expressionless, bird-like eyes staring at him, considering him for its next meal. The jaws opened and he turned to flee but stopped.

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     In front of him was no longer a scaled carnivore, but his mother!

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     She stared at him, deep sadness in her eyes. 

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     He saw she was holding something pale to her chest at the same time he realised he was in his normal body again, standing in the tall ferns facing her.

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     She held the object out and he caught a glimpse of pale, pink skin. He reached to take it from her and felt his shoulder being shaken vigorously.