Grug The Croods Novels & Stories

Aunt Drucella says, pushing the book in front of me. I stare at the picture in front of me. A creature, built like a man, with the head of a wolf covered in scales with tiny furry hairs sprouting from its hedges. A primate with claws instead of fingers. I still can't understand. “What am I staring at?” “A Monogroth, A creature of darkness magic, created by Behemoth. It was last seen during the great war.” Greg says. “And was killed by your ancestor,” Aunt Drucella added.

Out stepped a figure that defied description. He was seven feet tall but hunched over so severely his knuckles grazed the ground. His skin was gray and patchy, covered in coarse hair. His face was elongated, rat-like, with yellow eyes and teeth that were too big for his mouth. He wore a tattered security uniform jacket that was sizes too small, adorned with bottle caps like medals. This was Grog. The leader. Behind him, dozens of other figures emerged. Some looked like him. Some had scales. Some had extra limbs. They were a carnival of mutations.