Shape Challenge Trolls

For shape challenge

That last shape...  It was hard to think of what to do with it if I didn’t want to go with something really obvious.

Part of my Sci-Fantasy world

The OneSnierk gaped up at the swirly blue on white letters which boasted the existence of the Misty Mountain Muffin Top Sweet Shoppe. A fly buzzed by his face. A fur-tipped ear flicked at it, doing the job his mesmerized brain forgot to assign to his hands. If the Misty Mountain Muffin Top Sweet Shoppe were a living organism, its immune system would be fine tuned to ward off customers such as Snierk. Unhindered by such preemptive measures, he stretched to his tip-toes, gripped the doorknob, and let himself in.
There were several humans between him and the counter. He took his place in line behind an old woman whose form was indefinite under heavy layers of clothing. The wait was boring, but that was what humans did in these places, so he waited. He passed the time by using one of his toe claws to scratch funny pictures on the shiny floor.
The old woman reached the counter and made her order in a voice that oozed like syrup. Snierk fought down the growing urge to break something. He peaked aro

The First Cold Winter is WarmestThe snowflakes were numerous as grains of wind-blown sand. They dimmed the sunset and brought a freezing, premature nightfall. Bundled humans hurried past the lure of shop windows aglow with inviting warmth, toys, and tasty smells. A ribbon-clad tree towered over all from the place of honor cleared for it in the town square.
Hidden amongst rubbish in an alley where he could search for food unseen, Yerv was too miserable to enjoy it. He buried his hands in his coat sleeves and tried to thaw them against his arms. He shivered and watched his breath form clouds in front of his muzzle. The unnatural sight gave him a different kind of chill. Though his kin assured him this was a normal byproduct of harsh northern winters, it still gave him the creeps.
When feeling returned to his fingers he dipped his hand into a pocket and read the imprints left on the coins he had collected. None of their stories were very interesting (all had traded human hands in exchange for work and been lost on the s

The Shaper's GiftDetective Travis Hade looked down at street vendor Skavie. The troll met his eyes and lashed the tufted tip of her tail. Fragrant smoke rose from dark meat kebabs laid on metal racks over a small fire. The spices smelled lovingly balanced, but not too strong to overwhelm a hint of gaminess from the meat.
“What is this?” Travis said.
Skavie grinned and waved a stubby-fingered hand over her wares. “Chicken.”
Travis crossed his arms and glared over the rims of his glasses. “And what do you tell your troll customers?”
Eye contact was very important to this race. Travis willed his expression to freeze, unblinking, like the carved image of a stern god.
Skavie folded her pointed ears against her bald head. “I knows the rules. ‘If it don’t gotsa collar, make it give you a dollar.’ I didn’t steal from no one.”
“That works for troll restaurants, but a cart on Shab Street is another matter. Any establishment accessible

Ghoul-Face and the TrollsThe North Hill Road Restaurant and Bar’s ladder rattled against the wall. Any small dwelling rising on twenty-foot stilts at the top of a hill drew plenty of attention from the wind, but wind wasn’t known for growling. A dozen pairs of troll ears pricked and rotated a dozen heads to gaze at the only way in.
The door parted ways with its hinges and revealed a hairy black figure which blocked most of the star-studded night sky. Wide yellow eyes took in the scene. The werewolf squeezed through the doorway with a grunt and then stood on four stiff legs, chest puffed out, a ridge of raised hair on his shoulders brushing the ceiling. He was young enough that he was just beginning to develop the brown patterns which muddied most black-coats with maturity. Naked skin showed in ragged patches on the left side of his face. The four largest scars suggested the fangs of a rival, though by the spacing between it would have to be a pup.
The werewolf began a slow stalk between tables, cro