Nasha edged towards it down a jagged path, sharp obsidian jutting out, becoming larger and denser as she drew closer, sticking out from the rock face around the shallow cave like the Great Mountain’s own blackened forest, glimmering in the moonlight. What trees were left here had changed. Their trunks were cracked and seemed to be crumbling in places, and the ground had a gray tinge to it, ashen all around. The normally vivid green of the citrus leaves had turned brownish yellow—most of them fallen—the characteristic aroma replaced by a sour decay that brought the back of her hand to her
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