Deep within the swirling mists which obscured most of the length of the guardian stones, a proboscis dug into the gravelly sand, churning up tiny shellfish and crustaceans before a long narrow tongue picked them up, drew them into a hairy mouth.
It paused as it heard footsteps clomping on the wood of the bridge overhead, and the whimpering of a woman grew louder as the footsteps stopped.
“It is time. In honour of our master, we do cast you upon the stones that he might be nourished by your virgin blood. Go to him sister, the privilege is yours!”
The whimpering woman screamed, there was a wet cracking sound above, then the rich, tangy smell of blood running glistening down the sides of the stone beside which the creature had been foraging. The creature, intrigued, looked up and flicked out its tongue.