'This is bad.' Arlo thought as he looked at the patch in the forest.
It was literally decayed. The once vibrant forest floor was now a sickly, greenish-brown expanse. All of this was in a perfectly circular patch, roughly the size of a modest cottage, it had been stripped of all life. The leaves were shriveled and black, the grass was a lifeless mat, and the soil beneath was damp and spongy, oozing with a foul, sickly odor.
At the center of this circle, a gnarled, ancient oak tree stood, its roots twisted and exposed. Its leaves were a sickly yellow, and its bark was cracked and peeling. A thick, black substance oozed from its trunk, dripping onto the rotting ground below and emitting a foul smell that Arlo recognized as the same one he had smelled.
