"Moo Moo," I said finally, pulling back to look at him. His face was a mess of tears and fur, his nose was running, his eyes were so swollen with crying that he could barely see. He was, in every way, the most pathetic creature I had ever encountered.
I had missed him so much it hurt.
"Why are you here?" I asked. "How did you come here? Did you—did you follow me? From the heavens?"
"Moo." He nodded vigorously, his ears flopping with the motion. "Moo moo moo moo Moo Moo."
"You followed me," I translated. "You saw me fall, and you—you jumped after me?"
"Moo."
"Through the void?"
"Moo."
"Without any safety precaution?"
"Moo Moo."
I stared at him. He stared back. His eyes were still streaming, his little body was still trembling, but there was something in his face that I had never seen before. Something that looked like determination. Something that looked like love.
"You're an idiot," I said.
"Moo."
"A complete and utter idiot. You could have been destroyed. You could have been scattered across the void. You could have—"
"Moo." He reached up and patted my cheek with one stubby paw. His touch was gentle. Soft. The touch of a creature who had spent his entire existence being afraid, and had jumped into the void anyway, because I was there.
I pulled him back into my arms.
"Good boy," I whispered into his fur. "You're a good boy, Moo Moo. I missed you. I missed you so much."
He cried harder. I let him.
After a long moment, Moo Moo pulled back. His crying had subsided to hiccups, his face was a mess, but his eyes were clearer now. More focused.
"Moo," he said.
"What? You need to go back?"
"Moo."
"Back where? There's nothing here. There's no—"
"Moo moo." He pointed with one paw toward the door, toward the hospital, toward the world outside.
I frowned. "There's someone? Someone you came with?"
"Moo."
"A little girl?"
"Moo!"
"Terminally ill?"
"Moo moo moo." His ears drooped. His eyes filled with tears again.
"Lily," I said, and the name came from somewhere deep, somewhere I hadn't known existed. "Her name is Lily."
Moo Moo nodded. His tears were falling again, silent this time, streaming down his furry cheeks and dripping onto the floor.
"You decided to be with her," I said slowly. "You found her, and she was alone, and she was scared, and you—you decided to stay."
"Moo."
"For how long?"
He shrugged. His small shoulders rose and fell, and the gesture was so human, so Moo Moo, that I almost laughed.
"Until the end," I said. "You'll stay with her until the end."
"Moo."
I looked at him. At this small, green, perpetually terrified creature who had followed me through the void and landed in a world he didn't understand, who had been found by a dying girl and decided to love her anyway.
"You're a better being than I am," I said.
Moo Moo blinked. "Moo?"
"I mean it. You fell into this world and you found someone who needed you, and you stayed. You didn't hide in your room for four days. You didn't call anyone a peasant. You just—" I swallowed. "—you just loved her. Because she needed you to."
Moo Moo tilted his head. He was quiet for a moment, considering my words. Then he reached out and patted my cheek again.
"Moo," he said softly.
"I'm not—"
"Moo." His paw pressed against my cheek, gentle but firm. His eyes met mine, and there was something in them that I had never seen before. Something that looked like wisdom. Something that looked like forgiveness.
"You're right," I said. "I'm learning. Slowly. But I'm learning."
He nodded. Then he pointed toward the door again, more urgently this time.
"Right. Lily. She's waiting for you."
"Moo!"