Though it wears the soft, twitching form of a common hare, the almiraj bears a singular, spiraling horn that speaks of a sylvan lineage. These creatures were first ferried from the Feywild by merchant-princes who prized their exotic beauty, only for the skittish beasts to escape and flourish in the arid scrublands of the Material Plane. Despite their diminutive size, they possess a preternatural alertness; their oversized ears pivot toward the faintest heartbeat while their eyes glow with an uncanny intelligence that suggests they perceive the invisible threads of the world. In the wild, an almiraj is a ghost of the dunes, vanishing into hidden burrows at the first scent of a predator. Yet, if cornered or its warren threatened, its timidity evaporates into a display of reckless courage. It charges with the ferocity of a miniature unicorn, aiming its jagged horn with lethal precision at the softest points of its foe. Travelers who mistake their plush fur for a sign of docility often find themselves nursing deep puncture wounds, learning too late that an almiraj’s spirit is far sharper than its stature implies. Nomads often claim these creatures can sense hidden springs or lingering ley lines. A local magistrate might offer a handsome reward for a live specimen to serve as a courtly curiosity, unaware that the almiraj’s mournful whistling in captivity is said to act as a beacon, drawing the protective wrath of the very fey spirits that first birthed them.