Sketch couldn’t believe the last word that the doctor said, No Children, that scared Sketch, there were any number of Grym that preyed upon children, and all of them were twisted. Sketch had a soft spot for children as a storyteller. They sat around and listened to him for hours.

If this blight and abduction were truly the works of a Grym, Sketch felt partly responsible for rescue intervention these kids. The real problem Sketch encountered was the complete lack of witnesses. He might have been able to follow a trail if he had a clue, but so far he was out of leads.

He pondered for a second, wondering if whatever had taken the kids left a trail through the rot of the surrounding area. If that was the case, he doubted he could find such a trail in an area this large. He attempted to scan the green tree line for any patches of brown.

It was hard to tell from where he stood, but he thought he could see an opening around 500 yards from where he stood. Once again, he put his cloak over his head and walked through the field. When he got to the trees, he saw not only were they devoid of leaves, but there was also a black, pitch-like substance. The smell of rot was so strong that it got through the thick fabric of Sketch’s rough cloak. He continued onwards through the trees coughing.

Deciding that his cloak wasn’t helping at this point, he took his pipe out and began smoking it, hoping to use the smell and taste to drown out the assault on his senses.

Sketch walked out of the black road, into an opening that revealed bare rocky ground and rolling stone hills. Sketch stood at a loss, he’d been able to track them through a living wood, but on solid stone, he felt less likely to find a trail with no plants that could wither or die.