Rootbound Terror: The Whisper Between the Trees

A pale, sickly light leaks through the canopy of skeletal branches, casting shadows that twist like wounds across the wet, gnarled earth. From the fog, a figure of tangled bark and rot lurches forward, its limbs unnaturally long, clawed, and dripping with decay. The wind does not blow, yet the thing moves as though carried by an ancient, unseen hunger. Its silhouette flickers between branches, half-formed and all menace, as if the forest itself had risen in rage. The silence is thick and breathless, broken only by the squelch of its step in the cursed mud.