Molten.

The land was molten. Glass. It’s colors ranged from tinges of green to blues and yellows and reds and even purples. All depending on the surrounding terra. This was where the thing lived.

The explorer put his pen to his mouth, chewing on the cap thoughtfully. He turned back to a page, containing a vague sketch of the being.

Furious. It’s hair was ragged and wild, hooves sharpened to a deadly point, breath steaming, scales shuddering and twisting restlessly. It never stopped moving, always with a frantic, dangerous urgency.

It would cause a crisis if he published these papers. Scientists would lose their minds, trying to understand how such a thing could exist, wading through molten glass. The explorer would be called insane, foolish. But he couldn’t just let go of the enigma he had glimpsed. He knew he had to catch it.