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1. You pass what must have once been a pasture, but the only signs remaining are fenceposts lying abandoned in a row, paralleling your route. Atop each fencepost is a crow, and as you get closer, they cover their faces with their wings, as if to avoid gazing upon you approaching. As you pass each crow, it turns to the other side and buries its face behind its other wing, as if to avert its eyes from your passing as well.
2. Dark clouds have threatened all day, but no rain has fallen. Finally a thin drizzle begins, and a faintly bitter smell accompanies the light rain, which tastes salty, like tears. A half-hour later, the first tiny impacts begin, as of hail striking your garments, but instead of hailstones, the soft projectiles appear to be human eyeballs, smaller even than appleseeds, with dangling optic nerves flailing behind them like the tails of tadpoles. For several minutes they fall, gathering in squirming clumps on the ground before the ‘hail’ stops and the clouds part. Under the light of the sun, they eventually stop thrashing and die, and within hours, the area reeks of decomposing flesh as the tiny eyeballs begin to decay, while insects and birds swarm to take advantage of this bounty.
3. A stray dog follows you from town, shying away from contact, but eagerly devouring any scraps you toss its way. That night, as you make camp, it curls up as close as allowed, and sleeps, preferably within the warming radius of any campfire that has been built. In the morning, you note that the dog does not awaken, and upon approaching, find that nothing remains but the skin of a dog, slit open at the belly, and a trail of something slug-like and legless moving off into the distance. Whatever thing followed you from town, wearing the skin of a dog as a disguise, has taken its leave.
4. Travelling through the marshlands, you notice that while your companions are beset by mosquitos and leeches, you are, for the most part, unmolested. A single mosquito lands on your arm, and as you move to swat it, it falls dead into the water. You notice at this point that the water around you has an oily sheen that trails behind you, and that neither your companions nor their gear are leaving a similar wake. Looking behind you, a few leeches and a single small fish float belly up in the wake of your passage.
5. The area around you was once cleared for pasturage, and an abandoned barn sits decrepit, far off the road, near the treeline. Off in the forest, birds fly squawking into the air, and the trees themselves begin to whip around in an unnatural fashion. Whatever disturbance occurs, it seems to be coming in your direction, and you see it reach the treeline, with the visible trees jerking in all directions, with the ground beneath them rising and subsiding suddenly, as if the earth itself was a giant wave, coming straight at you. The barn explodes as its support timbers pitch in opposite directions, tearing the old structure to rubble in an instant, and still the earth-wave flows inexorably towards the road, moving faster than a galloping horse. It reaches the road and crashes, like water upon a rocky shore, spraying you with clods of loose earth, and then it over, the earth once again lying flat and still, showing little sign of its unnatural animation. Fallen leaves and branches, overturned earth, distressed birds and the ruins of the barn remain as the only evidence of this 'tidal wave of earth.'
6. A great termite mound lies in the center of the forest, three meters in height, and as wide around the bottom, with several smaller meter high mounds around it, with small walkways connecting them. For thirty yards around the mound, the undergrowth has been cleared away, and differently colored hexagonal patches of plants several yards across lie in a strange pattern, with trains of beetles carrying harvested plant matter to the central mound. A closer look reveals smaller insects riding atop the beetles, or walking beside them, and at your approach, a thin barely audible reedy keening erupts and shortly a flying swarm of tiny red, orange and yellow beetles pour forth from the mound and hover before you, making a threatening clattering sound. In their miniscule forelimbs, they bear shields made from the same material as their carapaces, in the same bright colors, and inch long polearms with mandible-like ‘blades,’ and it is by clashing their ‘weapons’ against their ‘shields’ that they make the warning clamor.
7. Hundreds of butterflies with pale green and lavender wings sun themselves on a tree near where you set up camp. The patterns on the wings are individually unique, and resemble fanciful glyphs or sigils in some ornate alien script. They beat their wings slowly, to remain cool, creating the impression of a single pulsing organism, which breaks apart at your approach as the butterflies fly away. The tree itself has been stripped of all leaves and buds, and lies naked, with scars upon its bark weeping sap like blood, when its ravagers depart, a sad and lonely sight. In the middle of the night, a loud crack accompanies the largest branch of the tree pulling free and crashing to the ground, and by morning the tree looks to have been dead for decades, and the grass and other small plants within several yards of the dead tree has also withered and turned yellow-brown, while the wood of the tree, and the fallen branch, reveal the wandering rune-like trails of thousands of tiny burrowing vermin, never crossing each other, and winding around each limb and branch, which, to the untrained eye, resemble long cursive runic inscriptions.
8. You awaken ravenously hungry, and feeling as if you have become entangled in your blankets, and begin to thrash about as you realize that you are indeed wrapped up in something. It is a matter of panicky moments to tear yourself free of the silken cocoon, no stronger than a spiders web, that envelops you, and other than yourself and your equipment being suspiciously clean and shiny, you appear to have suffered no ill effects from whatever force spun you into a flimsy silken prison for the night. The cast off webbing seems to wither away in the light of the sun, and soon the only evidence remaining of this strange ordeal is your unnatural hunger and thirst, which persists for several days, and a heavy sensation in your belly, which increasingly grows firm to the touch, and warmer than normal. Three nights later, you have a terrible dream of an alien-looking monstrous spider with intelligent eyes tearing itself free from your abdomen, and launching itself off into an endless expanse of mist and webbing, and you awaken to find that your stomach no longer feels as burdened as it had, and that your unnatural hunger and thirst have subsided. [You've just been used to incubate a baby phase spider! Mazel tov!]