32

It lay prone in the shallows, only its eyes and nose out of water.

Most of the living things had gone, and the percussive jumble that had thundered on its tympanic membranes had faded into a distant pattering.  Only two living things remained, and they emitted no threat signals, so its alarms were silent.

But the tantalizing odor persisted, a lush stew of flesh scents, stronger than ever, closer than ever.  And perplexing, for it did not seem to be associated with the living things.

It inched forward, pulling itself with its claws.  Its gills opened and closed rapidly, pumping vigorously; the oxygen content of the surface water was weak and corrupted with impurities.

The strongest spoor of prey came from an alien object near the living things.

Its capacity for making decisions was poor, its sense of options undeveloped.  It craved everything, but sensed that it had to choose.

And then, as if a gate had suddenly opened in its brain, it received a message telling it that it could have everything.  It must only decide what to have first.

It willed its gills to close, it rose up on its powerful arms and sprang forward.