Down below the growling fire,
Near the place we like to hide,
Stands a highly guarded tower full of fear and bitter fright.
Some may say it is a legend,
Some say it is right,
But to truly know the story,
Keep an eye outside.

On twisted legs and sunken shoulders,
Over stones and bigger boulders,
Marbles,gravel,dirt and pebbles,or whatever else there is over the hills and plains it frowns upon,
Out it runs and no one knows if it comes back.
A horrifying,hunted,skinny faceless thing with claws and throws all over it's half furry stiff and boney body mass.