Death. The forest was alive with it. Despite the brilliant sunlight that filtered down through the tree branches, no bird song was to be heard, nor the rustling of animals through the skeletal leaves. Ripe berries have fallen from their bushes, rotting, as there was nothing left to eat them. Perhaps the soil shall have some life? That is if worms and bugs and those who decompose count. Those that will get rid of the mess of flesh and bone that litter the forest floor with leaves. Don't wake in the world where the trees have all died. This is the place the old folktale has spoke of. The forest of no return. The forest of new beginnings. This is where people came to never come out again. The maggots would feast on your blood till it's no longer warm. Your flesh would become one with the dirt, or, if your lucky, it will merge with the trees. The trees. Perhaps the most dangerous life in the forest. Yes, they are dead, but they still feed. The insects and fleas all bow to them. Providing food when humans come scarce. For the trees cannot be left unfed. They cannot...