Bloby

It flows rather than walks, pouring itself over obstacles and reforming on the far side, feeding by simply engulfing scraps of hot mineral and absorbing them into its glow. Cold is its enemy; a Bloby caught out at night dims and stiffens, and must find a warm crevice or the residual heat of a rock before its light gutters. They gather at dusk in the warm hollows near lava seeps, a cluster of soft orange lamps merging and separating, and if you are quiet you can hear them, a faint contented bubbling in the dark.