A small girl, of perhaps seven years, struggles through a thick forest. Although it is noon, with the sun at its zenith, little sunlight pierces the densely woven boughs of the massive trees. Lush vines hang from the topmost branches of the great plants, blanketing the grey bark with varying shades of green. Above the compact canopy, many beautiful birds make their homes, and sing in the joy of the bright, warm sunbeams. Flowers drape themselves over the leaves, creating a gorgeously colourful cheerful effect. A few daring bees dart between the birds, either meeting their deaths at the beaks of the fowl or finally finishing their perilous trip to the treetop flowers.

However, below this stunningly picturesque scene lies a dark world indeed. Stray sunbeams futilely attempt to filter between the impenetrable branches of the immense trees. If they had completed their journey to the bare earth then perhaps luxuriantly flowering underbrush would be growing there, instead of the dark-loving fungi and moss. Rattling thorn bushes, feeding solely off the few drops of rain that occasionally break through the overhead foliage during a thunderstorm, fill the extra space. A few, growing close to some thinly-leafed trees, creep up the huge trunks, smothering swaying tendrils of the blossoming vines.

A very small number of humans and beasts have ever made it through the silent, damp forest, past the grasping thorn-fingers of the bushes, and survived the night terrors of the Creepers. The Creepers, with their bloodless faces and eerie cries. Few have not been driven mad by the hideous sight, haunting them again and again. The Creepers hid their forms till dusk, then emerging, sweeping through the forest. Fear was thrown ahead of them, and destruction trailed behind.