night_creature_11//flubbit

I heard a loud hiss when she secured the breathing tube to my mask. After signaling that all was in order we continued our walk in silence. We still had plenty of way to go until reaching the town but the expedition leader would not take chances. We underestimate how much a single hair can travel once it leaves the head, she had said, tapping her helmet. The mask kept filling our sight with fog and made the already treacherous way more challenging, but no complaint or sign of discomfort was uttered that morning. There simply was no alternative. Two hours later, our legs heavy by the weight of the equipement, we reached the town. From old pictures, one would think that this wasn't unlike other towns in the country: small one-story houses, dirt roads, chicken coops and barnyards, yet one could sense from afar that this was different. A thin mist, caught by the rays of sunlight, gave the whole landscape a spectral look. At that moment I realized that my hand had gone unconsciously to my throat. As we advanced, we walked past dead bodies as if they were grass. Flubbits are beautiful creatures, there is no down about it, yet they are equally deadly. When rattled, Flubbits shed their hair-like spores to the air. It takes only one of those hairs to kill a large mammal. Their portrayal in mass media has painted a deceitful image of these creatures, one of cuteness and friendliness. Despite the fact that it is my belief that no creature is evil, those portrayals are not only irresponsible, but possibly fatal, as extensively proven by the records of this town.