Fola turned and ran to the sickly goat. It backed away, its eyes huge with fear--focused over her shoulder. A great absence of sound washed over Fola from behind. The feeling reminded her of the cold air that heralded one of the savannah's northern windstorms.

She whirled--and stared in horror at the being that towered above her on the ridge. The dark, shimmering presence etched its image like acid into Fola's heart: a creature of blood and tears, like Night made tangible. She tried to turn her gaze away but couldn't; the thing was too vast, too terrible to deny.

Paralyzed with horror, Fola heard Bwire call out to the thing: "Kill that infernal goat, and bring me what's inside."

Bwire's creation rushed down the hillock and towards the herder's goats.