It was made of shadows and feathers and insatiable hunger. The eye couldn’t quite focus on it. Man-shaped, he thought, but he wasn’t entirely sure. His mind kept trying to build impressions of something solid and slipping. It had wings/claws/a fog of despair. It walked on talons/feet/jagged cracks in reality. Its face was dominated by eyes or mouthfuls of teeth, they flickered but there was always too many of both. It wasn’t all the way here.