The larvae was weak, numerous defects in the make up of it's own fragile life. Sometimes though you cant account for luck. While the larvae who were more active wriggled and tried to thrive, they attracted the attention of predators, and were eaten. Onward it drifted amid the ocean currents until it landed in a shallow area of a salt bog. There was little in the way of danger. The slug like creatures regarded it with casual disinterest, to small to be of threat. Well, this little fucker survived, off of decaying vegetaiton, then small life forms, then those slugs. A lack of pigment, ability to smell, functioning light organs and malformed legs gave rise to a near constant use of it's own tentacles. It lived out it's entire life never knowing it's own kind. It died shortly after the stress of laying a clutch of it's own larvae who repeated the process, over and over again, saying in this one location. The shorter life expectancy, and albinism could not be helped, but those with stronger legs eventually survived, and overcame, developing a communication of strange shrieks, clicks and howls, the music of the jungle. One day, the pink fleshed creatures crept through the canopies, and through the foliage, to spread out into new territory.