Terror seized the frog as the giant claw crashed the lizard onto the ground.

  It wanted nothing more than to run at that moment, but trying would have it dead before it even took a step.

  So it put everything into staying completely still, keeping hidden, fading into the background. Already certain deep inside, that the owl’s gaze was a moment away from snapping here, in that horrible way it had.

  But surprisingly, something else was grabbing the owl’s attention: somehow the lizard wasn’t dead. It didn’t even look particularly damaged. Trapped and thrashing about uselessly under the talon of an oppressively strong predator maybe, but otherwise fine. Was it just that durable?

  Then, another claw joined the first, pinning the smaller creature to the ground, and a... dismantling begun, piece by piece. The lizard whined and screamed desperately, but there would be no escape.

  The frog stared in uneasy confusion, finding itself disquieted by the slowness of it. How the parts that would seemingly cause the least amount of damage were being targeted first, and the rest treated almost with care.

  What was the purpose? The owl was surely capable of finishing the lizard off immediately, so why drag things out so much? It couldn’t be that it was confused: the act was too methodical for that, and not finding a proper weak point even once after so many attempts was just unlikely.

  Unless the lizard had some strange power? Something that made it much more resilient and hard to kill without doing some specific preparations first. It wouldn’t be the first such creature the frog had met, and would explain how it had survived the first blow.

  Still, shouldn’t the owl be able to overcome such a defense with sheer strength? And why was it wasting so much time with such a comparatively weak creature, when it had the critters to defend? What if its opponents caught up?

  Unless…

  That sense of disquiet and unease swelled suddenly, and the scuffed, battered appearance of the owl – dripping from wounds all over – stopped feeling weakened. If anything, the thing looked more frightening than ever.

  Not just dangerous and lethal. But brutal. Eager.

  The frog checked its concealment once over, frantically: that everything was as it should, and nothing out of place would betray it. Despite its anxiety, all seemed to be in order.

  Until the owl dropped the last remaining pieces of the lizard…

  and turned to look straight at it.

  Right then, the frog knew it was about to die. The owl had seen it, of course it had. And was just enjoying the moment, about to strike. About to seize it and then slowly peel its flesh away, little by little, just as it had with the lizard.

  … then its eyes slipped away, examining the surroundings with suspicion.

  The sheer relief almost betrayed the frog. It barely managed to hold it in, as the creature finished its examination.

  Then, there was again that painful, horrible screech, that made it want to disappear. To dive into the earth and never come out so that it would never have to hear it again. Never risk facing the horrible thing that had made it.

  …

  When it finally recovered, the owl was nowhere to be seen.

  It deflated in relief, though still careful not to expose itself. Its sneaking had held. The owl had really been unable to spot it!

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  … and it wasn’t the only thing that had been overlooked. The lizard’s gem rolled abandoned on the ground amidst the gore, just like any other useless piece of it.

  It felt weak. That it shouldn’t amount to anything good for the frog. That it would cause some small damage even.

  Yet it felt incredibly appealing. That it would absolutely benefit the frog, if in an entirely different way than anything before, far more than enough to compensate for the discomfort. Quite a peculiar feeling.

  At least a small part of the mystery was solved: the gem was the source of the appeal. Unfortunately, the full truth was lost forever as there was no bringing the lizard back now, to learn. The owl had made utterly sure of it.

  Alas, the frog would have to make do with its gem.

  It wouldn't even be hard: the owl had already flown away and left it there for the taking. The frog’s superior sneaking had stood up to the creature's direct attention, so it should be easy to simply grab the gem – maybe one of the others lying around too – and run.

  Leave this horrible place far behind and feed on it from a safe distance. Easy.

  But there was something else: the filaments. Even if most had been mangled just as brutally as the flesh they’d run through, some were still strangely viable, connecting the gem to bigger chunks. Enough to do... something. Something absolutely, incomparably more appealing than simply feeding on the gem.

  What exactly this would be it couldn’t know, but it had to do with the filaments. Which meant something at least vaguely similar to a transformation. Which meant it might get stuck, exposed and vulnerable.

  Which meant death. Especially after the owl had shown what it thought of creatures touching the gems around here.

  Unless the owl was returning to something that kept its seriously occupied... It might explain why it had rushed off without taking the time to recover these filaments itself – though it could have just grabbed the required chunks with some effort.

  No, it was ridiculous to try anything without knowing for sure that the creature was occupied. For all it knew, the owl might be standing in wait just behind the corner!

  Severing the filaments and getting away with the gem, was the far better option. The frog should try to be content. Get the easy win and finally do the reasonable thing for once.

  The little owls stared at the bigger owl. The bigger owl stared at the little ones. The frog stared at all of them. And at the corpses of the badger and of the other creature, now forever impossible to identify after what had been done to it.

  It was one thing to suspect that the owl might have come out on top, another entirely to see proof directly. It really put things in perspective.

  But not surprising, really. It should've known. It should never have doubted.

  This thing was monstrous.

  When the owl finally moved, the frog flinched, almost giving itself away. Fortunately, the creature's attention was all on the critters and it didn’t notice. But their reaction was different than expected.

  Though they’d been quiet and calm until now, rather than peacefully letting it get closer as they had before, the things recoiled in their strange huddling-away manner, the same as they'd done with any other predator. Were there fewer of them now? It felt like there were fewer.

  The owl stopped dead. And even though it was much harder to understand than most creatures around, the frog knew with some degree of certainty that it was very upset. To the point that any moment it might dash to the critters and slaughter them the same way it had with the lizard.

  But it didn't. It just stood there, staring.

  This went on for so long that the frog almost jumped again when the owl turned back and marched towards the badger. For some reason, the scene felt almost sad. A feeling of something out of place. Something lost and that might never be recovered.

  Though there was nothing sad in the way the owl dug inside the badger in one smooth motion, rummaging through it until out came the most enticing sight the frog had ever taken in.

  A jagged, sharp thing looking like a deformed claw. Savage. As if it was not a gem, but a chunk of stone that had been jabbed deep into the creature’s flesh and then healed over. So that it could never be taken out and at every moment would cause immense pain to its host.

  The frog wanted it. Needed it.

  Unfortunately, it was already melding with the owl as it walked back, and crouched the closest it could to the critters without scaring them.

  Or maybe fortunately, as it had prevented terminally misguided attempts.

  … so, it hadn’t been a fight or anything else that had prevented the owl from taking the lizard's gem and filaments. It just had far, far better ones here.

  No doubt the other creature's gem would follow the badger's once the owl was done. And judging by the noises around, more might be coming.

  Which meant there might be an opportunity for the frog, if it was smart about it.

  Waiting was nothing new, really: after the plateau, it had been forced many times to sit back and examine things for a time. It was used to it. Or so it kept trying to convince itself through the screams of terror and pain, as death in the flesh stalked around, massacring things.

  The only outlier in this anxiety-riddled tedium was a feeling that sometimes took it, a strange pull that felt... significant. It might be the lack of progress towards its true objective of finding something to do. But while that was still a sore point, this felt different…

  And of course, there was the occasional annoyance, ever ready to add to its frustration.

  Many times, it had been tempted to leave. After all, every further moment here would only increase the chance to slip up and end up like the lizard.

  But leaving now would mean that the owl had won. And that was unacceptable.

  On top of the little temptation just lying around somewhere. A lot of little temptations, rather. And the observation stage might be coming to an end, besides.

  The frog took some time to adjust its position, before the current batch’s pointless running could lead the owl right to it.

  It was clear now why there were so many intact bodies lying around - intact as far as their gems and usefulness for the frog went, and nothing at all about their physical state.

  Mostly, it was scavengers like the lizard, that came in to steal an easy gem and got turned into one themselves by the owl. They would add to the pile of unclaimed treasures and attract even more scavengers, in a deadly, ever-growing cycle.

  But the stronger creatures, the ones that could get closer to the clearing and challenge the owl, were different – only in their motivations, of course. They still ended up the same in the end.

  It might be because of the screech. It had a quality to it, something aggravating. Even the frog, that knew deep inside it could never fight that thing, felt compelled to go try, after hearing that sound. A feeling immediately quashed by the much greater terror it invoked.

  But the others didn’t know, and the stronger the creature, the more enraged they seemed to be, even if clearly none of them were the owl's opponent. How they could be so strong and yet their minds so slow not to realize the obvious, was another mystery.

  No matter if they were barely stronger than the frog or all the way to the badger, no matter how many came at the same time, it always ended up the same way: their corpses littering the central clearing. At this point, it was unclear if the owl was even trying or just pretending to struggle to amuse itself.

  And with a bigger choice, its pickiness had increased. The immense treasure that had started to amass here was a comparably immense temptation for the frog and any other creature around. Generally the closer to the critters, the stronger the creature had been to survive to that point.

  Alas those gems, the best of the best, were firmly out of reach.

  Trying to swipe one during a fight had been extremely tempting, but the owl would drop anything if a creature got in there. Even though the little critters had only become more and more wary and distrustful of it as time went on.

  The owl seemed to have an unexplainable and deadly awareness of the clearing, and especially of its mini versions. The frog had started to entertain the idea that the predator could somehow look through their eyes.

  Better to stay as far away as possible.

  And to start small. Though even that wouldn't be enough, as the slow and painful slaughter of opportunists that thought themselves fast and smart had demonstrated plenty of times.

  As the final screams died down and the one-sided carnage came to an end, the frog’s determination firmed. It had watched enough.

  It would need to wait for a chance. Some tough but weak scavengers should do the trick. Waiting for a proper fight that could tie the owl down was useless: at this point, there was nothing that could pose that much of a threat to it, and the challengers lasted no time at all.

  But it liked to take its time with the scavengers. In fact, it felt like the weaker the creature, the more time the thing would waste on it, to kill it as slowly as possible. They should be the biggest distraction.

  Allowing the frog to reach for one of the lowliest prizes around, one that wasn’t under too much scrutiny. And there was one in particular that really tickled its fancy.