It remembers, sometimes.
Esk do not need sleep but Socket has never found this to be an impediment to the act of dreaming, at least. It takes a conscious effort of stringing oneself between one world and another, but that is a place where Esks thrive, even new and bumbling Esks like Socket.
In the dreams it (he) remembers. The before-time is vague and water-smeared shapes of sleeping, eating, and forever running running running and hiding hiding hiding. The defining shape of the before-time is Fear--not the clever, weblike, nuanced fear that hikers feel when they trespass in its (his) boundary, but a naked and uncomplicated fear that was more impulse than emotion: today, do not die.
What memories come during the waking time are mostly in the shape of Her and all her Horribleness: of her long fingerlike claws stroking a rabbit’s trembling ears with a distinct curiosity that it could not know then but recognizes too intimately now. There is a need, now, to know things. It is an awf