Deep in the deepest reaches of the Green something stirred in it's den.

Heavy rains had fallen that day, soaking the ground, and as the storm passed the creature shambled out of it's hole to drink from the rapidly drying soil. Something analogous to a tongue emerged from a muzzle permanently displaying yellowed teeth and sunk into the moist earth. Overworked throat muscles were stimulated, drawing water through the straw-like tongue to a waiting pouch in the creature's chest.

All around similar scenes were playing out in eerie silence. Forms with dozens of legs or none, tall figures and short skittering monstrosities snapping up whatever resources they required.

If they could still smell the shambling monsters would taste the scent of decay in the air, thick and cloying. The trees they nested under were pale, bark flaking off in clumps to reveal pulsing mushrooms draining the Giant's strength. Elsewhere carcasses were dragged across rich soil to corpse piles. Some were devoured, others buried with a smaller creature. Set to rise days later to join it's brethren.

The creature with a strange tongue retracted the appendage, compelled to lurch out of the safety of the grove for a hunt. It's legs, none of which were the same size, began to pump driving the weight of the creature forward at shocking speed. It leapt over roots, and crashed through diseased underbrush leaving pieces of itself along the way. Quickly reaching the edge of the grove's influence it threw itself with abandon over the final large root.

Mushrooms the colour of steel began to spasm on the monster's back. As it passed over untouched land the fungi released clouds of spores to settle, searching for a hospitable place to fester. Already the growths were drawing whatever strength they could from the meat of the beast they inhabited, replenishing their spores as quickly as they spent them.

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The vast majority of new colonies would fail, either out competed by the roots and other plant life, or destroyed by the many insects and small animals that roamed the undergrowth. The fungi cared not, only driven to spread whenever possible.

As the creature crashed and staggered it's way forward the noise it made grew in volume. What was left of the monster's lungs let loose a ragged howl that carried through the quiet of the Green. An enraged answer screeched through the trees, and the monster turned towards it's opponent in a wide arc.

It didn't have to wait long to meet it's challenger. A beast the size of a house with sharp scales and whirling claws slid from it's hiding place beneath a wide root to crash into the side of the infected monster.

The beast's first critical strike shattered bone and tore meat. Congealed blood splattered the landscape as the two figures clashed, soon joined by scraps of fur and shredded organs.

In spite of the tremendous damage to it's shell the monster returned the attack, filthy claws digging through scales to reach the meat behind. It's spine was snapped, yet both halves of the monster still thrashed, doing everything in it's power to break the beast it tangled with.

Both struck without mercy, but the monster was weaker, decaying flesh falling away as it's over-strained muscles tore themselves apart in their fury. Thirty heartbeats later the fight was finished. The beast stood triumphant over the broken remains of it's foe, still twitching as disconnected muscles spasmed.

The disturbing mushrooms and mat like fungal growth that wound through the creature's mass remained, already starting to feed on the otherwise useless corpse. It would make a fine start to a new grove, superior in every way to a scattering of spores.

The winner of the fight left with a severe limp. Blood dripped onto the ground to be absorbed by nearby roots. It's aura was flaring, pushing the beast's body to heal the worst wounds before they could be infected.

It was too late, the spores released during the fight had already slipped into the beast's lungs and stomach. By morning the fungi will have taken hold of the critical organs, and begun to compete with the brain for control of each muscle.

Dry season was just around the corner. A time of dryness and scarcity for the wider Green. The rain that had helped the rot grow and fester would be scarce.

The fungal monsters would regress, hiding in their holes and dens, biding their time.

For the season of blooming was inevitable, and the rot would be ready.