I have found no other tribe. I found a curse for the senses instead.

What I see is so horrible I feel the warm, stinging rush of bile rising in my throat. I turn away, gagging and coughing. I spew out a yellow-green mess upon the the floor, but the dry heaving continues. My stomach cramps and I choke. Nothing but foul air flows forth.

The reflex action subsides and I look back at the eviscerated plush. The internals are long since gone with the corpse terminating at the waist. One beady eye and one vacant socket stare at me vacantly. I see no sign of the legs.
There is a smell of decay about this place, and it’s clear that the plush has been dead a long time.

My initial visceral reaction of dismay and revulsion subsides, and I begin to feel afraid. What manner of beast would do such a thing?

I already know the answer to that question, and I clutch my heart tightly, seeking comfort. There is scant comfort to be had. My only security lies in the fact that it is daytime, and the creature seems to only come out at night.
I must make haste to find a shelter while the light still lasts. If the Poodull is not an hallucination, I doubt I will survive the night out in the open.