Orth’gung plunged his proboscis into a hummingbird. Plant fluid flooded his mouth. He shook with delight.
A man-beast, bound by an electroweb, asked, “Why drink the blood of such a small animal, Great Gung?”
Orth’gung whispered to Clor’gung, his translator. “It’s not the blood I cherish, sapien. It is the plant juice.”
The man-beast’s face contorted. “Oh, we call that ‘nectar’.”
“Clor’gung, define this ‘nectar’.”
“In ancient Earth mythology, nectar was the drink of the gods. In modern—”
“The gods,” Orth’gong exclaimed. “The Ancestors who scouted Earth must have drunk it first. How cultural trends repeat over the millennia.”