Part Two:                                                 Atwell stopped in his tracks. Could this horrific monster possibly be friendly? Slowly turning back, with his knife at the ready, Atwell slowly approached the distorted humanoid. From somewhere within its body, it produced a mangled blackish hand, with what seemed to be sharp fingernails coming out of the hand at different angles. Unlike most, these fingernails were perfectly straight, with cracks and green moldy substances living under the nails.

 Reaching out, it unfurled a greasy finger and pointed it straight at the book. It looked like it was attempting to speak again, but it couldn't seem to choke it out. Abruptly, the monster turned around and made an unsettling series of noises, which sounded like the language that they were all speaking. A scrawny looking beast emerged from behind the "king", looked straight at Atwell, and said, "Whelcome to teeh Hvaknar". Atwell was perplexed. He had never, in his entire life heard that word, and had no idea whatsoever what this thing was talking about. "Hvanknar?", Atwell prompted, with a look of utter confusion plastered to his face. "Hvaknar is wheere whe leeve" it replied. Before Atwell could inquire further, the creature started limping over to a thick three with a large trunk, and knots of wood stretching out from it.

 Once he had reached his destination, he looked back, and gestured with his claws, mouthing the word "come". Atwell jogged up to his side knife still in hand, and ready to flee at any moment. "Teeh book", he demanded, arm outstretched, and palm facing Atwell. When he was a small boy, Atwell had found the book wedged in the stump of his tree, but that was before it happened... before the world was plunged into despair and misery. With the maroon, leatherbound cover, and small silver printing, the book was stuffed with runes, and indistinct symbols, that, at first glance just appeared to be random nonsense. Reluctantly, Atwell unstrapped the book from his belt and handed it to the creature.

 As it took the book, contempt filled its eyes, and for a moment it seemed as if it was about to run off with it, but then, shaking his head, went back to whatever ritual he was performing. Eyes widening, he opened his mouth, a sort of distorted siren noise arising from somewhere deep within his bowels. A flash of blinding light, as bright as a star, and the knots of the tree uncurled, forming a small passageway near the bottom. Getting down on his hands and knees, he propelled himself down into the hole, with his brethren following. Soon enough, Atwell was left standing alone, in the dangerous, dark forest. "Wait!", he cried, into the darkness. Clicking noises came from within the tree, and the creature re-emerged, looking up and whispering, "Yehs?"                                               END OF PART 2