After living in the urban jungle for the past five years, Clete thought he was free of his woodswalking curse, but nothing lasts forever. Pulled back in by “demons from his past”, and the lure of big money, he embarks on a mission to help a group of pornographers hunt down a mythical creature of the Dark Tropic in an attempt to film forbidden acts of carnality between man and beast.
In response, the Woodswalker angles his head toward him, giving Clete a good view of the ruddy, burning orbs that are his eyes. For a moment, they remind him of the Elder’s, but only in the basic fact that they both give off a kind of burning light. These particular eyes could never be even remotely related to human physiology, for they burn in ways that make him think of the metamorphosis of celestial bodies, rainbows on fire, impossible organs of sex flying apart in showers of blood and tissue, and then coming back together again in even stranger forms of impossible biology. As crazy as it sounds, they also remind him of love, plain and simple. Love for anything and everything.