The mountain wind shuttled between the dense forests, carrying a suffocating stench of corpses.
Weir held his breath for a while, but ultimately lowered his voice and said, "God, is that the Nest... It's so, so disgusting."
He spoke softly, yet his voice trembled uncontrollably, as if afraid of disturbing the world of silence and writhing below the valley:
Below the slope was a gorge that seemed to be torn open by the earth.
Sunlight could not penetrate the treetops, leaving only dim shadows and darkness, outlining a huge shadow that seemed to wriggle like a living creature.
The Nest was nestled in the deepest part of that shadow.
It looked like some enormous beehive or a festering organ, situated on the mud, its surface covered in a resin-like shell of a pale color, each subtle movement producing a sticky wet sound.
