Sometimes they get in the barn and mostly unnoticed but once in a while the farmer will catch a glimpse of them and he can make no more sense of it than the spiders or the cows certainly.
They mostly keep to themselves and don't do any harm in the usual sense as they have different motives than could be guessed.
They have always been around and don't get documented because they don't fit in 4 dimensions at all well. They often in get put in boxes with worn down pencils and such just so somebody can put them in a ledger and keep tally of their wealth in peasants.
Unless you happen to be one, they appear as a poorly defined shadow of being.
I suppose it is not much different than anything whipped up by the flurry of chaos, it has its features and travels to its own destination.
Moo, or perhaps I meant to say howl, howl, howl, howl! , weave and bite.
|O! you are men of stones:|
|Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so|
|That heaven’s vaults should crack. She’s gone for ever.|
|I know when one is dead, and when one lives;|
|She’s dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;|
|If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,|
|Why, then she lives.|