[TheRaisin]

OOOOOOOOO-kay, after a brief (long) hiatus (horrible incapacitating fever), TheRaisin (me) presents....

Chapter III

After leaving the eerie stone outcropping, Skrit and his pack spent a long night trekking across the seemingly endless desert, until, finally, just as the first few rays of sunlight began peeking over the horizon, Skrit stopped, looked up, and let out a wild paramite cheer, which was quickly taken up by the rest of the group. It marked the edge of the vast, scorched plains, and the hope of a new life and a new home. It was a hill. And beyond that another hill, this time with a hint of grass. And beyond that was another hill, this one with a few scraggly trees. And after a few more hills, the trees suddenly proliferated, tall and strong and lush, stretching into an emerald green forest that reached almost to the ice caps of the huge mountains that rose from the living green carpet around them.
The pack ran in unison towards the jungle haven, even the tiniest pups keeping up, for they all knew instinctively that this world of greenery would be where they would settle down once more, begin a new life, and try to forget about the grief and loss that had pervaded their last home. In time, the pack would recover, reproduce once again, make up for the ones who had been killed by the sligs, and maybe build a pack even bigger and better than the last.
A ways into the forest, Skrit found a small, cold stream emptying into a crystal-clear pool. After drinking his fill, he retreated to a spacious hollow at the base of one of the hefty trees at the edge of the clearing. While the rest of the pack drank and played at the small watering hole, Skrit slept... and dreamed.
Once again, the images came, horrible images of death and destruction. This time, they came faster, and another image came too. It was a Mudokon, but Skrit somehow instinctively knew that this was no ordinary chump. The Mudokon had many tattoos and jewelry, and across his whole body was the recurring pattern of a paramite. Unbeknownst to Skrit, this was the spirit of a Mudomo, still lingering to help the paramites that had been so sacred to his tribe. He spoke a single word, that Skrit somehow understood: "Beware..."
The sound echoed horribly in Skrit's head, and he awoke suddenly to find that the sound came not just from his dream.

What will happen next? What does the Mudokon spirit want to warn Skrit about? What is this horrible noise? Find out in the next installment of--bum-ba-da-duuum!--Skrit's Oddventure!