In the cinematic still, Mac the alien wears a tattered loincloth and crouches low by the edge of the dark cave pool, his usually smooth and gentle features now twisted with a Gollum- like intensity. His few teeth gleam as he bares them in anger. The soft glow of the bioluminescent fungi barely illuminates his figure, casting eerie shadows across his face, which is contorted in a mixture of greed and desperation. His wide, expressive eyes are narrowed, glinting with a feral hunger as he stares intently at the glistening, raw fish clutched tightly in his hands. His posture is hunched and tense, with his thin, wiry limbs squeezing the fish tightly. The water of the pool ripples softly beside him, reflecting his distorted image back at him, a ghostly, almost ghastly reflection. The cave around him feels oppressive and damp, the air thick with moisture and the smell of earth, amplifying the intensity of the moment. Mac’s usual innocence is gone, replaced by a primal, almost sinister obsession, as he clutches the fish close, his entire being focused on the raw, glistening prize in his hands
