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They saw it moving slowly between the trees. It was round like a wheel but not a perfect circle as it probably once was. It rolled nervously over cracking twigs and dry underbrush. It was at least a few hundred feet from the road if not more.
They couldn’t tell how it was able to find its way. Maybe it was lost. It seemed to have a defined shape but within that form it was shifting, like a cuttlefish. It contained a barely visible interior that rotated and sparked as it rolled in its lopsided rhythm. Someone said they thought they heard it crying but the others just heard a low scraping sound.
It was unnatural or some aggregate of natural materials cooked and mutated, bent and cut, molded into its abstract form. At least, it felt abstract among the trees; probably less so in the constructed human world where, it must feel more comfortable among the other monsters and mutants.
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