These accounts highlight that the is a diagnostic tool. For those in the know, looking at the eyes is the only way to identify a Krasue in her human form before the sun sets.

Suda swept it into a jar and buried it deep in the earth, praying that the woman the eye belonged to had finally found peace. But that night, and every night for years after, Suda slept with the lights on. She knew the Krasue would remember her scent, and she knew that somewhere in the dark, the floating eyes were still searching.

If the victim moves or makes eye contact back, the Krasue drops her disguise. Her eyes widen inhumanly, and she lunges. The last thing a victim sees before her intestines wrap around their throat is the unblinking, predatory stare of the Krasue.

No, Suda thought. Not the hens. The eggs.