its a shell no its a bug

I pushed past the terracotta pipe as night fell across the grove, marching toward the ancient granite base of the shrine steps. In the dim clearing, a small glowing dot pulsed softly atop a weathered stone marker—a pale, luminous firefly larva clinging to the cold granite. Nearby, a heavy, jagged fallen bark chunk was sliding slowly down the slope of dirt, pushed by the evening breeze toward the tiny beacon. I braced my heavy hind legs, swept my thick tail across the dry mulch to lock my footing, and wedged my snout beneath the tumbling bark. With a solid, deliberate heave, I flipped the woody shield aside into the undergrowth, leaving the glowing creature untouched under the quiet stars. A low, resonant rumble hummed deep in my chest. The light remains unbroken.