Tentant Eleven

The rot spreads as our punishment. This is the decision. This is the end.

The little girl can see more than anyone else. No one notices her as she stares at the festering trees, as she watches the rot spread and grow closer with every passing moment. Soon, it'll consume the entire camp, and no one will think twice about it. Perhaps, they'll move the camp further in, but she doubts it. She's seen how they handle the rot. She's seen how they crave it.

But they don't understand what it is. They don't understand that it's not a punishment. It's not even from this world. It claws its way up from the earth, from below, from far below.

From Under.

It rots all that it touches. It rots the very fabric of their souls.

But it will not rot hers. Because she can see.

Oh gods, she can see. . .