In the oldest of days when the fervent sun shone men knew they were strong There were wild things that hunt in packs and did feast on what the sun brings. These wild things, intelligent creatures flat humanoid faces and long tapering fingers.
Their eyes a sure'd sight round like saucers huge and black and never seemed to move. They stood ten feet tall thin as a sapling tree. They floated their limbs as they watched and stared as if carried by the breeze.
They stood in the distance punctuating the horizon and watched the towns of men. They never moved or too a step but sometimes they would cry.
They'd raise sharp fingers to the sky and give a bleeding screech. But they all lived in oldest of days and no one's seen them since. Perhaps they do still stand and watch with broadened razor grins