It begins with a tree, then another, and another. What was grass turns to moss, as the gloom filled saplings sprout up in questionable places. Branches gripping at each other, creating a breathless sky, were light cannot get but a peak through. The dusty-brown forest giving off a willingness of defeat, crackling branches fall from the dying trees. Yet life can be felt in the bright patches of moss covering the floor below. The brushes of wind as it hums through decaying bark, a calm song, setting the mood for a lifeless domain.