A Poisoned Trickle
Now, the waterfall’s power was gone. Instead of thunderous cascades, only small streams of dark liquid oozed downward, dripping in slow, sickly batches. Andrew’s stomach turned as he stared at the corrupted sight. The water was no longer fresh, no longer life-giving. It was thick, black, and foul, like the veins of the forest had been poisoned. Whatever had happened here was unnatural. Something terrible had stolen the water’s life.
Page 36 of 70
