Nothing looked more foreboding than the outside of the forest. The trees were an unnatural black, as though they were rotting, while their dark green leaves clung to the trees tightly, seeming very reluctant to fall to the ground. The bare grass was evidence of that. Black vines hung from the trees, tangled with each other, seeming to tie all the boughs into a tight wall, as if the forest itself was trying to keep its dangers locked away.
Very few dared venturing into the forest. And while many did not return, those who had came back and reported wonders.
The forest has seen no sunlight, they said, but the forest created its own light. Little patches of mushrooms peppered the ground at the base of the trees, emitting a gentle, blue glow. Soft moss crawled its way up the trunks, shining soft silver like the moon herself. The trees even produced fruit; golden, peach like orbs, hanging from the boughs like lanterns, glowing like sun drops. Though no one who had gone in had dared to eat one yet, it was beautiful to say at the least. Fireflies seemed to be the only animate creatures in the forest, adding stars to the permanent night.
But those who came out said the night had two, large, blinking moons. Something else was in there, and reveling in the beauty of the forest was not worth meeting your demise by its resident.
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