Good.
V-Zoisite-One's fragile, still babyish skin squirmed. The grub was facing away from it, tail pincer clenched tightly shut. At the instruction to look-- to see-- it took a step, stumbling on to its side, and twisted its head toward its mother.

Good? Golden eyes met empty, narrow venom-green slits. It stared at the stone, watching with nary a sound as Orthoclase-Alpha chucked it away like it was worthless. It tried to understand the concept of the stone and what rotting was, but it was stuck frozen by the instruction to eat the rat while its Life-Giver went to catch more.

... we need to eat, the grub rationalized, mom feeds us rats so we don't have to eat each other. Pincers opened and clacked shut, finding that it did not feel hungry in the slightest.

Its new hatchmate was huge, and needed to eat. They had all been hungry when they had been born; and surely Khavur would be hungry as well. A set of talons raised, reaching out to grab at the still warm, lifeless murdered corpse. Its tiny, hooked claws dug into the flesh, and it froze for another second.

Then, it hauled the rat over to Khavur, and pushed it toward them. "Eat," it repeated, recoiling from the corpse and scrambling back to make distance between them. It quickly stumbled over something... the head. Golden eyes stared down at lifeless eyes, bulged and bloodshot that stared back. Its fur was still warm.

Eat. The thought fired a neuron in the grub's head. In response, it found its stomach squeezing. Its body convulsed, throat working in reverse before it even took a bite. Quills rattled, a squeaky wheeze escaping its throat. Pincers spread wide, as it suddenly spilled its guts quite literally.

A meal from several hours ago, mostly digested and glowing putrid melon-like puree, dashed against the dusty floor of Canis, spraying over its talons, over the head of the rat, over some nearby bones. It sputtered, trying to breathe, and its breath hitched as it retched again.

By the third time, at least, there wasn't much more in the bug's stomach.