The Zoisite had given up on holding its head up to look around. It kept its head parallel so it could scuttle smoothly after its mother Alpha, using its sense of smell to navigate and only watching the ground just ahead of it for uneven ground and obstacles in the way. It was getting to be quite successful at moving in this way... at least, when it had something to follow.

Alpha stopped, and so did Zoisite, twisting its head so at least it could hallf-look up at the face of its caretaker. Pincers slowly closed tight, and stayed still as it listened. The instructions given, Zoisite began to sniff for it.

It could smell the familiar, warm scent of rat, a food that had provided it sustenance a few times before. Pinpointing it would be tricky, though... The grub pushed itself upward, rising on to its back four legs, and then its back two legs, golden eyes sweeping as it turned its head this way and that, inhaling the scent through the pits in its lower jaw.

... there? Zoisite squinted, staring at the strange amalgamation of bones that rustled. The grub had chomped down rat meat, bone and all, but why was there just dry bones laying about everywhere? It caught sight of movement among them, and immediately its quills bristled, rattling quietly as its fur puffed out.

"what's that?" It asked in a hush voice. From under the bones, it finally spotted it, the food, the RAT-- fur, meat, sustenance-- scurried out of the bones, diving into another pile, and Zoisite froze up completely on the spot.

The rat wasn't supposed to MOVE. It had never moved before!

The SQUEALS and the CRUNCH OF BONES echoed and drilled holes into V-Zoisite-One's head, bouncing about inside of the soft grub's lumpy head, eyes staring wide as it processed... processed...

mother caretaker Overseer Orthoclase-Alpha wrenched the still squirming, crying, living creature from its hiding hole, hauling it back over to the two young, setting it down in the dirt so it could clamp another huge fist over its head and hold it straight.

The rat could feel, could breathe, it was scared and in pain and this was what they did to survive, to eat the flesh of something that lived. Lived like Zoisite, and Selenite, and Labradorite and Khavur. Pincers opened and closed, tail twitching and clamping, again and again with the thought process. Outwardly, it seemed like maybe it wanted to kill the rat with its tail, but the motion was entirely subconscious as it stalled in thought.

What stopped mom Alpha from crushing it or its siblings, feeding it to the others? What if all of the rats disappeared, would they have to eat each other? It didn't want to eat the rat anymore. Would it rather starve? Hunger felt like pain, though. Would pain make it not move anymore, like the rat? (Was that what killing was?) Would its siblings then eat it, too?

This was wrong, and bad, and still soft skin rippled, fuzzy underside prickling as the Zoisite swung its head toward its sibling, golden eyes wide and blinking. It didn't say anything. It didn't know what to say.

Khavur, the Reaver, of the Dark Above, didn't say anything either. It kept flickering through unhelpful, bright colors as it moved. It had two heads (real heads, not like the Zoisite's false head) and it reached forward, as though it would solve the problem for Zoisite.

The grub was not freed from this horrible moment, however. The large head retracted, shuttering; all while the rat squealed, cried, in agony that the grub couldn't help but quiver with empathy for.

Overseer-Orthoclase-Alpha's monstrous, wicked claw-hooked hands curled tighter over the head of the rat, muffling the sounds. It struggled still, now trying to gasp for breath. The zoisite stared, wanting to look away, wanting to run far away and hide. What would it do, pushed between the truth and the necessity of its own life? If it died, its life made a waste of effort and blood, it would only be fed to its siblings. What was its life worth, compared to that of a rat? It had no idea that it had been consuming things that lived and breathed, and suddenly, against all instinct, it was sent into a moral conundrum that made it sick.

Pincers clacked. V-Zoisite-One couldn't take its own breath, and now it was starting to feel the pain it caused. The rat was in pain, and dying slowly, with or without them-- to make it easy and fast-- the back of the neck. Could it do that? Khavur shied away.

Every second.

Every slow, agonizing second, the rat was slowly dying.

Its last moments, fear.

Even if its mother let it go, it was hurt badly. Would it be okay, if Zoisite convinced ITS MOTHER to let it go? Would Alpha listen?

Would it die, slowly, unable to breathe or cry for its family, while Zoisite tried?

No, no, no, no no no--

--nothing should suffer like this.

Zoisite couldn't look. Head swung down low, and it scurried forward, lashing out with its tail; bloodsoak-painted pincers opened wide, and snapped shut, delicate neck bones dislodging from each other as razor sharp edges eviscerated, head from body.

The grub felt the resistance, the tear of flesh, race up its body like an earthquake through its nerves. It shivered, and crouched low to the ground, and eyes shut tight, it remained perfectly still as the warmth of blood dribbled on to its tail.