One day, it had just appeared.
A bright green mass looming over the desert horizon, shifting and shimmering with every wave of heat riddled air. Many thought it was a mirage and gave it little notice, until it began to look larger. Days went by and the shape grew in size, seeming to ripple and convulse in the eyes of its spectators. It was then that the first scouts were sent out to see what exactly was out there, just beyond the town's edge. The citizens waited for the return of the men who went out, anxious eyes lingering more and more in the direction of their leave-taking.
The whispers began again, but this time there was a growing sentiment. Fear.
"Why haven't they returned? What is in there? Are they hurt?" the questions bubbled within the homes and streets of the small town. Many went to go searching for the missing scouts themselves, others wanted to wait a little longer before sending more people out into the unknown. The ones who did leave, vanished just like the first party.
Three days of this worry and gnawing panic passed. Still no sign was given of the groups' safety. Distressed families frantically sought answers from those who sent out their loved ones, tears flowed and watered the thirsty, unforgiving ground. Despair grew and blossomed into anger and bitterness, nearly half of their family and friends were gone, and there was no answer to ease their pain.
And then the bubbles burst, one by one until the town was in an uproar. Notices were sent out to neighboring towns, missing persons listed on every inn's board in the hopes that they were still out there somewhere. Days stretched on by until there seemed to be little to no hope remaining in that diminished town. The green mass continued to waver and grow in what seemed to some people as a way of mocking them.
In a matter of days the impossible continued to occur. The verdant shape swelled in size, seeming to ignore the laws of nature itself. The closer it grew, the more it could be defined to what looked like a large cluster of trees spread into a forest, bursting out of the sandy terrain. The townsfolk looked on in horror as each day its approach did not cease. Many fled in fear of what would happen once it reached the town, travelling through the desolate mountain ranges that bordered a collection of mining towns. With ashen faces devoid of all but fear and grief, they turned to see the mass at their beloved town and felt something akin to an earthquake rattle the very stones they had escaped upon. A fine golden mist erupted from the shape, dispersed along the wind through the mountains strong air currents.
Within a week, the refugees had reached a neighboring town in considerably less numbers than they had left in, either succumbing to the harsh heat, or lack of will to go on. A group of locals, after hearing what had befallen the small town, backtracked through the mountains to see for themselves what remained.
There was nothing left but sand and peculiar white flowers leading to, and around, a massive pit in the mountainside.
