Its leg was pried free from the maelstrom of teeth, flailing weakly before returning to the sand, the weight put on it sending immediate ripples of sharp pain through its body. The wounds still burned without teeth, the now empty space replaced by sandy air of Leo. Despite the change in the target's position, the path of her lunge only required minor adjustments.

Jaws closed around her, closer to the front end than it had anticipated. It had worked in its favour - Rena was unable to retaliate. The furious clacking of pincers echoed in the closest ear.

It occured to her that she didn't actually know what she'd do in the event of her victory, a thought that struggled in the oil that sloshed in her head. It moved to press the worm against the sand, moving a forelimb to stand on top in order to pin Rena to the ground. Afterwards (and if Rena's struggle was in vain) it could gather what little ideas it had on what to do with her.

But instead, it slipped on its own oil, toppling forward and allowing Rena to wriggle free as its chest collided with the sand, wounded back leg screaming with the weight and collapsing as well. It fell to its side, breathing hoarse and heavy.

The worm slipped from her mouth easily, scuttling out of reach - she hissed in some expression of an unknowable emotion. Black blood marbled with external oil, its only distinguishing factor its lack of an iridescent glaze. It dripped down its ruined leg.

It expected a counter, that horrid shredding feeling again - all it felt was sand. All it heard was the sound of many limbs shuffling away; No final clicking of mandibles, not even a threatening screech. The oil-horse, having been allowed to, righted itself, and began its march towards Rena.

It was not a clever thing, it did not occur to it that she might be baiting her into a far more gruesome fate. It wanted answers. It wanted her skin. It followed, stumbling and limping in a pitiful way, undeserving of pity though it was. A choking voice coughed up words (somehow). "CO-me... back." Pleading, on the verge of tears - not like it had ever stopped crying. "It is un-FIN-ished."

It followed blindly, blood and oil trailing in droves. Steam began to bloom were they traveled, it noticed, but it did not register it as a threat or obstacle, simply an interesting feature of the landscape.

That is, until, the grub disappeared within it. It could not make out much, just a vague shape in front of her dropping suddenly out of sight. It blinked, pausing to figure out what exactly had happened - when its thoughts were interrupting by her piercing, bubbling, boiling scream. A strangely enticing smell wafted through the air. "Hel-LO? Come... b-ack." But it knew it was alone again - and it began to sob.

It stayed like that for hours, bent over and wailing, choking on its own grief. Was it afraid of being alone? Did it miss Rena? Did it mourn the lost opportunity to kill her herself? Who knows. Who cares.

The sounds would fade, and it would begin to limp away in silence - prompted by nothing but its own thoughts, as if it was simply time.