Quoted By:
with a flick of the mental wrist, a card slides through a reader as Wilder blocks the passage ahead with a flash-freeze of golden, flowing sap. . .
. . . greenery spills out of the heavy security doors. One man in a technicians uniform lies against the door, half rotted. The air is sweetly, heavy, spores and dense dust and little flittering bits of life flowing out of the room . .
The lights above! they activate! Flickering into sudden brightness, bathing the enormous THRUMMING core with a bathe of light, revealng biolumiscent mushrooms and growths in an odd shape, beneath which whole new generations of Wood Children are slowly growing like so much mold . . .
