His world is dark.. empty. Life is a concept that does not have meaning and yet there is an instinctual drive to be alive. To continue breathing. Sight, sounds, and smells are sensories gifted with time – of which he has not spent enough to acquire them. And so he writhes around in this empty world as he searches for that thing which will keep him alive; yes, that thing that he now latches his tiny jaws upon to suck life from. It gives him what he needs, what he desires, and so he likes this thing.
It is now that some fractured understanding swirls in the darkness that he is not so alone. This emptiness is to be shared with the Giver and with this equally sized thing at his side. He stays firmly attached to his place until he can no longer leech what he needs from it and only then does he release and slide down upon his belly to rest. He is full to the brim with this life-giving substance and yet it only causes him to tire quicker than he wishes.
But he will be up again soon and once more he will feast upon the Giver, for that is what he understands and that is what he will continue to come back to again and again until he is strong enough to shed light upon this silenced void. With one final yawn he slips into a state of unconsciousness filled with an even deeper darkness, one where what senses he does have leave him entirely. No sight, smell, sound, touch or taste. Just empty. A hollow shell for what demon is to be born within the coming months.