A big, creepy, green disappointment.

That about summed up Chaos-V-Twenty's entire life so far within these caves. It had achieved nothing, earned nothing and earned no respect from its peers. After a cycle of wallowing, it was growing restless. It could feel the itch crawling under its scales.

It couldn't be a failure. It shouldn't be a failure. It already felt distinctly other from its own comrades. It needed to prove itself or die trying. Because that would be preferable to seeing disappointment, or worse, the indifference. That it wasn't worth anyone's time.

So it had slunk back out to the fields of Pegasus. It had a useless element and a bright, green body that made it impossible to sneak up on anything; only the dullest of creatures fell for the 'huge rose bud' act, and if they were going to war, it doubted their foes would be of the intelligence of lessers.

It would be nothing short of a miracle if they were.

So here it was. It would train, it would eat, it would survive until it felt it could call itself worthy to go crawling back to Draco (or if Master Vargas told it to). Until its summons, it would work on being the best of the best.

Something worth a damn.

Its bottom eyelid twitched restlessly; it could feel it as it slithered all thirteen feet of itself through the grass. It was determined.

First find something to kill and eat. Something small. Something big. Whatever it could fool into sliding down its gullet. But there had to be something it was made to do. Something it was made to do. That sunset General had said it looked good at digging. Perhaps she was right.

Stupid fluffy-things making goo goo eyes at eachother. What did either of them know about war? Stupid soft things don't know how to fight or make anyone... anyone... scared? Was scaring people a part of war? Childish, petty thoughts are what kept it motivated as it slithered into Pegasus proper.

They likely worked so well because Chaos-V-Twenty was still exactly that, mentally a child that had been made into an adult sized body.

Mature but still grasping the basics of socialisation, empathy and well... just about any skills at all.

It wondered if it was the first. Or if there'd been others like it. Confused, matured but not. Being set off to combat for a reason far beyond compression. It didn't know. It only knew it had to not die when it was sent.

With a sigh, it hefted its weight upwards, to lift its head above the grass like a periscope. Only to decide that this was far enough away from the tunnel entrance to get started. Started on what exactly? It hasn't thought that far ahead but it was feeling restless. Perhaps it could simply try striking something? Yes, that sounded good.

But what exactly?

It began scraping up fallen leaves and pine fronds. It wasn't too difficult with how much body it had and it found if it coiled just a touch, it could scoop them into a pile. It wasn't a big pile by any means, certainly not compared to its own heft, but it had spotted some twigs...

With a stick in its jaws, it stuck the twig into the pile of leaves. One in each side. Making this pile of leaves not only small and unimpressive but now it has two twig arms that barely stuck up above grass level. It was perfect.

Now it has something to practice on that wouldn't run away when it approached, it could... well, do something more. Attack it? Probably?

Right. It would practice attacking the dummy. You'd need to attack in combat, so it was only natural that it should try it. And perhaps this time it might even strike its target.

Perhaps step one should've been; don't get emotionally attached to your leaf pile with arms. But it couldn't help it. The pile was just so.. so charming. With it's little arms and the way it scattered and flattened further in the wind. It just didn't have the heart to rip it to shreds. So, it just gently clamped its jaws over one arm before releasing it again.

Maybe... It should give the dummy a name. Yes, that was a good idea. It'd call it... 'Dishwater'. Creep had heard it being yelled once, it didn't know what it meant but, it has a pleasant ring to it. "Okay, Dishwater. How do we get better at everything?" Creep contemplated aloud to its companion.

Dishwater rustled as the gentle breeze pushed it further over into the grass.

"Camouflage! You're right." Creep nodded sagely, perhaps unaware it'd become so lonely it'd started talking to leaves.

It scanned nearby, searching for any nearby berry bushes or foliage it could blend itself into...

Chaos-V-Twenty hummed flatly as it couldn't spot much. Perhaps it was too close to the meadows? Oh, perhaps if it just moved a little closer it could see over that little grass bank...

As it shifted its mass, it roiled over Dishwater, pushing the leaves into the dirt and muck below. Dishwater's two twig arms rose above the mud, reaching towards the surface as its body was pushed onto the muck... And lost.

Dishwater had perished on the line of duty.

It was a darker day than anyone could've foreseen.

By the time Chaos-V-Twenty noticed and recoiled its body back away, it was far too late. Even Dishwasher's little arms wilted then collapsed into the mud. "Oh."

It peered down at the remains of Dishwater. Well, that was a shame. Now it had no one to talk to but itself. It'd have to judge its own abilities rather than relying on its imaginary friend. With a forlorn sigh, Creep slithered towards the grassy bank, feeling a bit more lonely than it had before.

Seeing as everything else had, yet again, failed to produce anything good. It supposed it could try magic again...

The oilstone beneath its tongue warmed as the magic fizzled and, surprisingly, took hold. It sucked back in the drool it'd began to salivate and looked first to its side. Nothing. Then to the opposite side. Also nothing. It looked up. Nothing either...

Then it looked downwards, and almost thought there was nothing there either. But as its body shifted into a rested coil, it caught sight of a flower doing the exact same movement. Both moved to sit rested on themselves, Creep on its own body and the flower on its stem, slightly curled up. Then, when Creep straightened up, the flower did the same.

"Stop copying me!" It hissed at this irritating, mocking, flower. It was childish and annoying to copy someone! Especially when it just looked like this, it wasn't as if it had hanches to rest on.

As Chaos-V-Twenty leaned down to inspect the flower more closely, the flower also bent down to inspect the dirt beneath it.

Oh this copier was good! It would give the flower that, but still increasingly frustrating. "Stop copying!' It asked--- Nay, demanded.

When Creep lifted its head again, once more the flower mimicked the movement...

Chaos-V-Twenty hissed an irritated rush of air through its nostrils. It would not be mocked any longer! It heft its body to squash the flower beneath it. Rubbing its scales and thorny protrusions into it to make extra sure, that this flower was dead.

It wouldn't try that shit again. Chaos-V-Twenty thought smugly as it pulled away to admire the crushed flower (which had mercifully stopped moving by this point).

It was right at that point that a singular thought hit Creep with resounding clarity. It still hasn't learnt anything useful. All it'd done is crush a flower.

Perhaps it should sulk back to Vargas and tell him to simply not send it out and just banish it. What was it supposed to do in an all out war? Unless it was against flowers...

No! No-- This was a minor detour. A distraction and it could still do much more, it has to. It remembered its promise that it wouldn't return until it had something to show for itself.

Hunting should be easy in a place like this. It'd move on from the spot of quashed flowers, slithering through the grasses once more. Perhaps finding something to hunt would be best.

Hungry, are you? You should eat them. Those soft, fluffy creatures that you thought were your siblings. They'd taste good going down. You could do it.

Master Vargas would no doubt hear of it.

Chaos-V-Twenty shook its head. There wouldn't be any eating of comrades, which they likely were, or would be soon. Which, even the other feelings conceded to. The lesson from that sunset General was clear: do not upset Master Vargas.

Instead its brought itself to a nearby stream, its body acting of its own accord while the brain bickered and argued over whether or not killing the goo-goo-eyed things was a good idea. It would have to be better to catch them first, though admittedly on their first meeting both had run up to it without a care in the world.

With a sigh, it followed its gut.

Sit in the stream and wait. Something will come. Settle on the bottom and let your head lie out on the surface; you'll look just like a fallen branch.

All prey needs water. Everything needs water; more than creatures need food. The idea is sound, even if your execution is less than ideal. It would mean you could try again if you failed.

It slithered into the stream. Allowing the mass of its body to settle around the pebbled bottom, coiling and writhing until it sat partly coiled, but loose enough not to give its shape away in the waters. But what to do with its head? Perhaps it could let some of its leafage flop over, to look like a little more than a discarded flower in the stream. It shuffled some more, so it could lie on its side. It used the leafy parts around its head as a cushion to keep water out of its eye. With one eye facing towards the sky, it could see the foliage on each bank swaying in its peripheral vision. Laying another leafy part of its foliage collar over said eye hid the bright yellow gaze from anything taller than it, while still allowing it to just about see the banks.

With a small amount of luck. This would work.

It waited. Left alone with nothing but the company of its own thoughts. It'd learned the hard way that they were hardly quiet either. The water seemed to encourage them too, the rhythmic way the stream lapped against the sides of its head, the soothing flow over body. In another life, it may've been able to identify the sensation as meditative, but not in this one.

It sometimes drifted, just a touch, closing its eyes and simply enjoying the sensations the river had to offer.

They'll know. Even if you fail, you did your best. More importantly, you'll know you did your best, and is there anything more important than that? Than knowing you tried.

BZZT. INCORRECT, PAL. It'll be worse, won't it? Knowing you gave it your all and still failed? And this? THIS IS NOT OUR BEST. THEY DON'T MAKE FAILURES. You're going to divvy yourself up all nice for this war AND WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN.

Creep squeezed its eyes shut, just a little tighter. We won't know until it happens. It reminded itself. Yet, when it peeked an eye open, it saw hooves by the riverbank. A doe staring right at it. The lesser hadn't even fallen for the act this time. That deer had to know something was off. Shit.

DON'T JUST STAND THERE GAWKING AT IT. KILL IT.

Maybe striking an adult deer had been an ambitious idea, but it hadn't thought much about it. Once the idea popped into its head, it used its pre-emptively coiled body to lunge back out of the stream. With surprise, the water gave, and it had enough speed to do something.

Without input from its head, its length had coiled around the deer, around its head; around its jaws. It wasn't as if a deer would scream for help; why had it done that?

Hold on tight. If it makes it back to the herd, you're dead meat. You need to move; you need to stop it from running.

Which was easier said than done; the deer had tried to flee the moment it'd moved, and its antlers were dangerously close to piercing its scales. Perhaps the head wasn't the wisest choice. It needed to reach the neck, but that would need it to work around those giant antlers.

BREAK THEM OFF. SHOW IT WHO IS THE BOSS.

That will only waste time. Ignore the antlers.