Cattleya knocks desperately at the entrance of Citria's sleeping chambers. "It came back! It came back! The garden is…"

Xochcatl emerges from her chamber half asleep and with a scowl on her face from her peaceful dreams being cut short. She turns to Cattleya and scolds in a whisper, "Do you know what time it is? You are being loud and waking people up."

"S-sorry," Cattleya says, starting at full volume, then catching herself and quieting her voice to a whisper.

A groggy and sleep drunk Corazon stumbles his way into the hall, conscious enough to conjure a concerned look on his face. "Is everything alright? I hear distress."

"The thing! It-," Cattleya's words start as a yell, but transitions to a whisper as she remembers she needs to be quiet, "-it has come back. The herb garden is all torn up. I saw it run away when I went to the outhouse."

Being deceptively quiet for her sheer size, Citria practically materializes behind Cattleya, who was now facing away from the sleeping chamber's entrance. Cattleya flinches as Citria speaks, not expecting any presence behind her. In her usual gentle tone now reduced to a whisper, she asks, "Does Ycthuthrheth know about this?"

With her pulse now racing and holding a hand to her chest, Cattleya shakes her head side to side. "No."

"May you ask it to meet us at the garden?"

Cattleya nods and runs off to Ycthuthrheth's ship.

Citria turns to Corazon and Xochcatl. "Come with me."

They follow, one not putting any effort to hide her discontent, and the other still not fully connected to reality.

light specks of mist kissed their faces as they stepped out on the pleasantly cool, foggy night. The darkness of the night pierced by the softened glow of bioluminescent bugs and mushrooms dispersed through the defraction of suspended droplets. Tip-toeing as quietly as they could, Citria, Corazon, and Xochcatl approach the garden, bearing witness to the havoc the creature brought upon it. Half eaten herbs are one thing – and they are strewn across the garden – but the much worse offense is the destruction of the irrigation system. Water pools in the pits of the uneven earth, and randomly directed spirts eject at unpredictable intervals. Mats of previously underground mycelial networks have been brought to the surface.

"What a mess," sighs Ycthuthrheth, audible through its drone proxy.

Corazon, having woken up properly with the cool air hitting his face, looks down on some hooved tracks. He points to them, "I believe we have some evidence as to what could have caused this."

Still feeling the effects of rest cut short, Xochcatl responds, "Corazon, five words or less."

With his fingers still pointing to the tracks he found, and not wanting to start a fight, responds, "I found tracks."

Citria looks at the tracks, then back at Ycthuthrheth's proxy. "I think we have this handled. May you shut the irrigation for us?"

"Sure thing," it sighs, relieved to be able to get back to sleep quickly.

Xochcatl follows the tracks without a prompt, wanting to get this over with as well. Upon noticing her sudden disappearance into the mist, the others catch up.

As soon as they leave the colony's base, the gentle mist is cut through by slow but heavy drops. They pick up their pace, knowing that this might be the only chance to track this creature. Previous attempts have failed since it always strikes when heavy rain will erase evidence, and it's smart enough to avoid stake-outs. It was pure luck that Cattleya managed to spot it in action.

Before the rain picks up enough pace to erase the tracks, the tracks are cut up by larger and larger swamp pools. The soft mud no longer retains the shape of the hooves, but Citria, Corazon, and Xochcatl soon realize that footprints are not the only way to track an animal. Small clear trails bisecting surface algae tell that something has crossed recently. Grass bends all the same, no matter the soil it's in. And every so often, an herb looted from the garden gets left behind. Little by little, these small traces lead the three to a makeshift den made from collapsed giant mushrooms. Underneath is the perpetrator in question, stolen loot all around it, surrounding its young, and sleeping peacefully to the heavy rain pelting the surroundings. Carefully, they document all they can see about the creature. They do not know how it will react with strangers near its nest, and they certainly do not have the tools to defend themselves right now, should that reaction be anything other than flight. Given how it has young in tow, it will very likely fight.

And now having identified it, they will be better able to protect their garden without unnecessary death.