In the Reaching Woods, a deep and foreboding unease has settled upon the land. The few remaining treants, guardians of the wood and protectors of its delicate balance, are said to be turning bad. Their hearts, once pure and strong, are now blackened and corrupted, and they no longer heed the whispers of the forest.
Travelers have learned to avoid the fringes of the wood, and even the bravest among them dare not venture too far into the heart of Reaching Woods. The trees themselves seem to share in the fear and uncertainty that grips the land, their branches rustling uneasily in the whispering breeze.
The situation is now dire. A treant has attacked a gnomish community on the northern border of the Reaching Woods. Something needs to be done, and soon!
- from the publisher's blurb