In the raised waves of the growing ocean waters, fragments of life continually ride the

tides. Cycling in a perpetual flow to deconstruct the old to feed the new. A dip in the acidity of
the seas spiraled chaos to the flora and fauna that inhabit the salty waters. Beginning in
crustaceans when their robust, diverse armors slowly deteriorated away, flecks of the shells
tearing and eroding till they were nothing more than pearlescent gray foam frothing on the
surface. Left helpless within the seas, the soft-fleshed creatures dwindled to extinction. The same
went on to happen to the coral reefs and then the vegetation. Eventually, the well-balanced chain
that strung together all sealife disentangled to a long, domino effect of mass destruction,
eventually reaching life on land. But those who survived the biological genocide went on to
continue their dying lineage with a deep, instinctual need to live.
Life grew again. Leaving the old to hobble and submit as sacrifices for progress. The
world must shed its orderly, polluted shell and reset to natural anarchy, waiting for no one.
Hovering above fresh-fallen snow, gnawing on the tough frozen meat of a cub, is
evolutions’ new generation taking the form of a marten. Like its ancestors, it lacks the
comprehension to spare pity for its youthful meal. Stuck in a logical indifference that compels
them to break bone in its thin muzzle and tear skin with weedy wet fingers.
A deep hunger compels it to consume. The reason is more than a simple need and less
passion than desire. It’s a feeling that plagues its every interest, every action. A force that makes
it drag on instead of walk, to let excrement crust over its lower half, to swallow without chewing.
It doesn’t have the experience to avoid these inconveniences. So it is stuck in a loop of confusion
and infantile frustration with itself. But even when it was only a small microorganism, it knew if
it ate it would grow. It’ll be better. So it eats whatever it finds. Almost lost in a human-like
obsession to take even though it’s not necessary.
Muscles flex and the heart slows, its body familiarizing itself with a new shape. The
creature feels a sense of childish pride whenever a warmth grows in its gut like now. Because of
it, it means it’s growing. It’s evolving.
Matted fur is carpeted by spots and baby skin. The bones broaden their once loose body
to something wider and full. Its snout flattened to be larger, less pronounced. It slowly molded to
fit every last detail, carefully and methodically.
Now reborn and anew.

After settling with its new Change, finalized by the way temperature traveled its body
once again, every part of its world had transformed into something new. With longer, stronger
portions, its once tunneled vision of the land expanded. No longer did the wet slosh beneath itself
seem flat and bothersome. Now it had some sense of…depth to the creature. The soft flakes
tenderly hugged the edges of its body, almost glittering beneath the shining rays in the sky. When
the creature pawed at the surface it was amazed by how easily it crumbled. Never biting back for
hurting it. The moment seemed remarkable for the creature since it never bothered to admire the
fragility of the ground it walked on. So it patted the flakes again, and again, and again. The
otherworldly luster of the unique encounter never loses its spark no matter how many times it
repeats itself.
Innocent wonder began to erupt into something more thrilling, more vivid. It began to
feel excitement. So much so its body moved on its own. Springing upwards with sudden
strength, then clumsily plummeting back down headfirst. The flakes caught it, saving the
creature from a painful mistake. This inspired the creature to continue. Working itself breathless
till it could land awkwardly, almost floating above the flakes without sinking like the winged
mammals it once saw lay atop waters.
The new, younger Change stimulates inspiration to wander, to explore, to play. No longer
did simple obsession for growth envelope its entirety. Now a brash, naive curiosity to engage
followed with it; it began to proceed with emotion. Eventually, the creature watched, with new
eyes, as the powdery flakes under its paws lost solidity. Instantly slipping into an unstable,
sodden substance that slid down the crest of its toes. The creature shook the liquid off,
uncomfortable with the leftover dampness. But it is struck by this sudden Change. It cocked its
head.
Eventually, the creature was compelled to venture into every space in this new,
exhilarating universe. These Changes left little reason to doubt its environment, not when
everything could be as exuberant as the pale flakes it became so beholden with. Things like the
hard syrups oozing off shredded bark, and the top pile of some especially pretty pebbles
burrowed underneath, or the choppy crimson leaves of winter shrubs--they are all eyed with
admiration. Discoveries are no longer sorted as bothersome or convenient, instead cycled into the
creature’s now completed, and animated picture.
As it embarked further down the tundras, it spotted the semi-frozen pools of a rushing
river. The creature sauntered closer to the cold waters, emerging from the woodlands it had spent
the past hour in and watching ice splinter, then float downstream, slapping against the curves and
edges obstructing its path. The roaring gurgle of the waves and the harsh crackle of beaten ice
deterred the creature from leaning closer, the noise matching similar gruffing or growls of the
Hostile. But as its eyes lay set on the moving blocks dredging through the banks, it became
curious of its hard exterior. The ashen color is roughened, but still matches the snow the creature
adores.
The creature crouched down, leaning close enough to the edge that it can safely bury its
claws into. Raising a paw, it quickly slapped at the ice’s corner, and watched carefully as it
popped under the waves for a moment before rising up again further down the stream. It gave
chase to the rushing mound, continuing its new game as it traveled down where the river
widened, bedrock surged up from the center. Seconds later, it came to a pause, because standing
before it was the enormous structure of a grand, winged beast whose bottom pointed upwards.
The adventurous cub soon ran out towards the hard faded body of what it thinks is a new
amalgamated animal. It lacks a front nostril like most other mammals it encountered or eaten,
with the top half of its eyes revolving about its forehead, frosted over by the mounds of snow it's
half-submerged in. One wing is tilted upward, while the other is bent and misshapen with
portions of its gray-green plating grappling to stay ahold of its massive extensions. It stayed
placid on the ground; no signs of breath or basic cries that would prove its livelihood. For all that
the cub could understand, this relic of human catastrophe is just another dead creature.
This historical ruin, which had been perfectly crafted to be a system of precise aerial
counters and excessive nuclear force, is now a hollow shell. No longer can its back engines rear
up and warn of the upcoming blitz fire it’ll rain, neither can it tear through the sky with pervasive
speed. Once a message of rack and ruin; now another object to be added to nature’s anarchy.
And that is how our young, peculiar creature looked at it. A new thing to claw at, to bite,
to sniff. No historical complexity clouded its judgment. The machine’s significance was lost.
The creature circles around the body, marveling at the gargantuan guardian poised above
its head. Till it sighted a frantic blur rush by from the corner of its vision, trained eyes following
it with haste. It’s a plump, round thing that never held still, constantly fidgeting either with its
flank or scanty wings. Often, it crooked its neck, scanning the environment for any hungry
onlookers.
However, its back faced the creature, poised in a corner that made it impossible for it to
spot the shape of teeth and spots nearing from behind. The young cub senses a stir in its gut.
Feeling lively by a chance to hunt with its new body. To revel in the feeling of flexing its claw
into the dirt, and springing with its newfound strength. This vigilant desire to seek its prey has
stayed close with the creature ever since it gained a somewhat primal consciousness from a
sickly marten. But with greater muscle mass, lengthier reach, and strengthened muzzle of a cub,
nothing could pique its interest greater than to exert itself.
With steady feet, it spread its toes over the snow, clumsily balancing atop cold mounds to
not make a sound. Eventually, as it crept nearer to the animal’s tail feather, ogling its heavy beak
and swollen neck, the creature readied itself. Springing up excitedly with its back legs lifted so
its weight carried it to the desired direction. Unfortunately, its landing was off, with the blow
giving the animal enough time to be alerted and hustle through an opening of the Giant’s body.
The creature tried to extend out for a swipe but was still centimeters away from the prey’s rotund
belly. It huffs a nasal growl. Frustrated by the lost catch. In an attempt to regain its prize, the
creature desperately reaches between the hole, snaking its paw around with curved claws
outstretched. Despite its buoyant jump, the creature still isn’t accustomed to the larger weight of
its body. Having never taken the form of anything bigger than its marten shape. Its aim is
uncoordinated; the shoulders tense. So with one more sullen smack into the Giant’s corpse, the
creature whipped back its paw.
The chase isn’t thwarted, yet. The creature focuses on returning to its sprightly and
reflexive form. With its once fine fur spiking out into something heavier and loose. While its
square body coils to a more narrow, rodent-like figure. With a few quick inspective sniffs, the
newly transformed marten rakes itself with a few licks before squirming through the cramped
cavity. Pressing past the depression till it was completely through. It was a tiny, shallow space,
with the creature’s head barely able to lift further than its shoulders. The floors are old and
unvarnished; slippery from the snow, while broken frameworks, seating, and glass scatter
around. The creature had to scratch and fight through debris. It scurries by bones of animals and
humans alike, hardly worth attending. Not when the last remaining vestiges of soft tissue and
muscle have dried. They were worthless. Nothing that could sustain proper forms. They were
only another trifle to walk over. It hops over the remaining rubble and coast by fauna hiding from
the cold, finally able to lift its head at the cost of a slope that inclines from the Giant’s middle. It
smells the surrounding odors, pinning each scent till it can track the singular smell of fresh prey.
It is an alluring mixture of wet skin, excrement, and mildew. It continued forward in that
direction. A blazing scenery from beyond burns the back of its eyelids. But that didn’t stop it
from aching for its target, confident in its ability to reach and rip the stomach this time.
At the end of the carcass are clear skies. The Giant’s bottom is completely severed.
However, fluttering and twittering on flatwire, back to the edge, chirps the creature’s fellow
occupant.
This time it didn’t gloat. Launching at it’s prize, it latches it’s jaws to the thick meat of
the animal’s neck. Dragging the now thrashing songbird out the Giant’s bottom into free fall. It
didn’t care about the efficient force of gravity’s call. It is not carrying fear for the painful impact
that may await it. It could simply rebuild itself if the worst comes. But that takes time. And it
does not want to allow an opportunity to pass for the prey in its mouth to flee or be stolen from
an awaiting scavenger. So it spent all its energy gnawing on the soft, lardy neck, it’s lean body
and wiry, coltish claws coil and tear the remaining body.
However, expecting the soft collision of snow, it’s back instead slapped water with a
harsh crack. Dropping a few feet under the surface of the river and disappearing beneath the
frozen waves. It barely had time to register the rush of frozen water filling their lungs.
Outflowing between its teeth and the now dead meal it’s clutching. It makes a desperate lunge up
for air but is quickly pushed back down by the current, dragging the now frantic creature with
greater force. It hardly stood a chance against this churning, crowded mass of ice and water,
barely catching sight of it’s paws smacking around the surface for stability.
This is a common occurrence within these woods. Often hundreds, if not a thousand
migrate between the rivers each year. The animals have enough awareness to not step in these
waters during its most turbulent times. Typically abating by the shores till the rivers ease.
However, some don’t have the luck of time by their side and must rush through before hungry
stalkers pursue. Normally the wild bison or horses suffer the greatest losses. The young or old
make a singular misstep before plunging down, and being swept away, drowning in mere
minutes. But those lost lives often present themselves as a brief, free feed for fish or river
serpents, delivering nourishment to the aquatic ecosystem each year.
Each time, the victims yell and tustle, dipping below the waves for several seconds before
making another dramatic show up to make more noise despite the water filling their lungs. After
several minutes of this repetitive cycle, the animals’ movement becomes more subtle, more
quiet, less lively. Their heads’ bobbing above the surface every other second, it’s frequency
declining till they’re completely gone; swallowed under the ice.
 However, even as it’s throat and stomach bloat, salt water burns their nostrils, and sand
and bedrock smack its bottom, the creature continues it’s savage task to finish it’s meal. Every
last piece. Snapping at portions that are stolen by the stream. Choking back bone and marrow
even as water overtakes it. It’s vicious urge to consume is more potent than anything fear could
harvest.