Talpidae

 Humble mothers surrounded an old bathtub being used as a planter for root vegetables. Four norns who'd chosen the grassy mountains. One who told history, one who had the news and one who would predict, the fourth was grey haired, timeless seeming, who'd drag the clouds with her hands she was the older of them.
Shy mist and knee high grass seemed to dress them up their glee in having hands in soil. Mottled carrot and parsnip uprooted, useless so the grey haired mother condemned them, shrill echo repeating up and down the mountains. The other three mothers tended the soil mute and blind. Something moved from under the soil| poisonous ravenous accelerating to the surface then diving into the depths of the soil. None could see what it was.
The commune of mothers arose shocked and humbled their retreating hands and paling faces a mysterious blasphemy. Now standing in protest, mists dissapated the knee high grass sighed with an unwelcome breeze.
The beast in the tub murmured. The mothers turned to the east following the sun from morn to dusk. The tub begged water the tub begged sustanance mottled crops discarded a top a pile of weeds inedible. Panic wrestled complacency the tub distracting their eyes from the gloom where the sun was hidden.