The fight with the warped animal had not gone completely unnoticed by prying eyes. In a terrain that was otherwise devoid of noxious gasses and substances, sticky, viscous fluid began to bubble up from the earth itself. It spread its reach, slithering into the pools of blood left over by the owlbear, rolling over grass and leaving a suffocated trail in its wake. The pile shuddered, as if shaken by invisible laughter, and then the goo warped into the mockery of a single eye.
It had chosen.
Contact would be made.
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