Riding across snow-touched lands

With those worn-out hands

Waiting for my final hour

While doing the same old labour

Every day, the same

Until it comes to maimed

This is a poem from Cryptid (yes that is the main character's name until I can figure out a better one that I liked or a name that has to do with the unknown) Creator's Species warning them about a danger comes after them.

There might be a few similarities between them and the Worker/Murder Drones