Upon Moonshadow life is measured in months, sanity in weeks and hope in days. The latter of these three owes as much to the vile pests that Moonshadow sees fit to inflict upon us. The flies that infest the dead are sometimes impatient, though they at least can be avoided by a cloth mask.
Some of the skittering menaces that infest this place are far harder to avoid. Bloodmites are small things, little creatures that live in mounds at the bases of particularly sickly arboreal specimens. Alone, they are no threat and the worst one need fear is the loss of a drop of blood. If only there were only one in such mounds, though the withered husks surrounding them give fair warning.
That which has many legs is often avoided in our world; its sting is painful. Their counterpart upon Moonshadow stings just as painfully, and has a talent for finding exposed ear-holes in which to lay its eggs; indeed, such a warm and inviting home is worth the price of the screams it makes.
These are the kinder of Moonshadow's malevolent insectile plagues.