The being had understood that the little light wanted to keep away and watch it toiling in silence.

  But it must have misunderstood somewhere, and badly.

  The being now realized that these annoyances were the little light’s attempts at communication, somehow. It didn't know why even bother, when it could easily see its emotions now.

  And if it wanted to explain something more complicated...

  couldn't it please just do what it had before? One little mind-projection? In and out.

  Honestly, the being had wished to have a true friend for a long time-

  but it was starting to miss loneliness. Just a tiny bit.

  All these annoyances were overwhelming its mind.

  At the very least, it had finished this part.

  Now, it needed to clear the area of creatures and stop other unfortunates from falling down again.

  Fortunately, it should be able to solve both things in one move, however painful for its sensibilities.

  The being felt around for the tunnel it had half found half excavated, and that was now the only way up.

  Hidden between other rocks, finding it would be impossible if one didn't know it was there. And even then, it was almost too tight even for the being to squeeze through. Perfect.

  The being dove down and started to crawl its way upwards, the little orb following right behind, phasing in and out of the walls.

  Yes, getting up this thing was a real struggle.

  There would be no way for anything just a tiny bit bigger than the being to make its way up.

  Finally, the being emerged and surveyed the area around.

  Once again it was mostly a way to stall, since the owl wouldn't get far from its immediate surroundings, and anything else would hardly pose a threat.

  It moved towards the bags, which were thankfully safe where it had left them.

  No creature had ever shown the slightest hint of wanting to steal them, but it was a hard fear to quell.

  It picked the one it had already opened. Better to leave the others for later in the remote case there was some filth left after it had finished, since the seal hadn't closed back correctly on this one.

  With one of its trusty spikes, the being tore open the temporary cork, which came away far easier than it should have.

  The being heaved up the bag and confidently moved back towards the edge of the gorge. After all, there was no risk of creatures coming too close with how they hated this mucus. And the closest it poured it, the less material it would need.

  And if it poured close to the very edge, it could see just how well the thing could cover the walls. If it spread out as well as it had seen back at the castle - sparing it from painting the walls by hand - that would be nice.

  Very carefully, it started to tilt the bag...

  The filth... proceeded well enough downwards, but it kept branching off. Much more would be needed to form a proper coating. And what if the being ran out before even completing the encirclement? A full barrier on all but one side was little more than useless.

  Better to go all the way around. Then it would see how things went.

  The filth did its part wonderfully in keeping creatures very far away, to the point that the being feared it would scare off even the owl. But really, if the creature was provoked enough, nothing would ever deter it.

  The substance also spread so perfectly down the walls, that the being had been sorely tempted to be conservative in its use. But its higher reasoning had won in the end: this would be a lethal confrontation with no space for errors. Which also meant that, alas, its stockpile of filth was no more. It should see if it could scrape some back up, but...

  Truly a sad moment.

  And the little light was back too, to compound on the ugly feeling. Thinking that way about a friend felt bad, but the orb really could not keep it down.

  Unfortunately, it hadn't realized that working on the walls before this part would prevent the creatures that had fallen down and got trapped from fleeing on their own. Currently, they were all huddling at the center, trying to stay as far as possible from the mucus coating the walls.

  The being would have to go down there and throw them out itself.

  Far from difficult with its new strength, but definitely annoying. Still, at least it would mark the end of its preparations.

  Then, it would only need to rescue the owl's remaining 'friends' to get it out of its nest.

  The owl was deep in its misery, just as it always was when not inflicting pain upon something.

  In the beginning, it had been a boon: as long as its fury could help keeping safe what it cherished, what else mattered?

  But the more it indulged, the more it immersed itself into the carnage, the more that pain became fundamental to its existence.

  It had been so easy... The owl hadn't realized the moment when retribution had surpassed everything else and become its most important goal. It must have been a long time ago.

  Even when its chicks had been taken away from it, the first thing on its mind hadn't been to secure the others. But to maul. To inflict as much pain as possible to the culprits. To slaughter.

  It used to think it had healed, deluding itself it could still treasure and care about something else in the down periods.

  Now it was more honest with itself: there was no recovering from this. Only deeper and deeper immersion.

  Whenever peace extended too far, whenever too long a time went by without the slaughter, the owl started to crave it, more and more, and its grasp of reality lessened. Until there was nothing else but blood and pain, at any cost.

  The first time it had killed one of its own chicks hadn't even been that dramatic.

  It should have been devastating. The maximum crime it could have committed.

  Instead, the only thing it had cared for was that its bloodlust was soothed. And that it wanted more.

  It had lost the will to even pretend, then. There had been no need to slip under that much to kill another, for the sin of having spurned it.

  It didn't remember killing the rest, but it probably had. It should have left the nest much earlier, when the flow of potential trespassers had started to ebb too much.

  Now, there wasn't much left of the creature it had used to be. It didn't even know why it cared for these worthless surrogates anymore. What did they matter?

  But even this dissonance was muted. The slaughter had replaced even its reason, it seemed.

  Why take them under its protection? Why care for them? They were just one drought away from getting slaughtered by its own claws.

  And that very drought was coming right now.

  Whatever had changed the migrations must be at work again. They were very close to the End, after all. It must be stronger here.

  But there was also something else at play, because its new little wards kept diminishing. And this time it wasn't on the owl. Probably.

  No, of course it wasn't. If it had been, then it wouldn't be feeling this pressure. This horrible, horrible thing digging in its mind, like an unrelenting itchiness. An implacable fury that made its limbs seize and vision darken.

  And where was that firefly? The owl had always known that alien thing was up to no good. If only it could have done what it always did to things that threatened it... but the annoying thing couldn't be touched!

  The owl wanted it to stop. But no matter how it begged, there never was a stop.

  Only one thing helped. And it had some creatures right here, ripe for the- No! It could resist.

  It was supposed to protect.

  It could take it.

  Just a little more, and something would surely come.

  It wasn't working. It wasn't!

  Rather than resuming, the flow of creatures had stopped completely.

  The owl needed to hurt, to rip apart, to maul. It needed to kill.

  And there was nothing around to satisfy it.

  Nothing but its chicks.

  ...

  It was lying to itself. There was still some part of it that hated this, hated its weakness and crimes. But that part couldn't ever win in the end. It could never keep the other in check for too long.

  And now, they had reached the tipping point.

  The owl turned back towards the little creatures, ready for-

  something struck it, lodging partway into its chest.

  It had been a long time since a creature had landed a hit.

  It... hurt. But that hurt was nothing compared to the rage at what it saw.

  There were no chicks anymore. Or rather, only one remained, but in the hands of a smaller, bipedal creature, with enormous swellings on its back. The one that had dared throw this quill.

  It didn't feel that strong, but there was something in its eyes... This creature was smart and dangerous, and had something familiar about it. Though the owl was sure it had never seen its like before. Maybe it...

  But it didn't matter anymore. It couldn't.

  All that mattered was that it needed to SUFFER.