Save for a handful of weeds, the once lush land had been completely crushed and flattened in what seemed to be an explosive struggle. Numerous claw marks ran across the terrain, reducing everything on its way into a muddy pulp. The surviving foliage was tainted by the pink liquid oozing from the dirty slurry of crushed flowers. The fluid filled numerous cavities and formed pools of pink across the terrain. She could make out purple petals floating on the surface and flowers peeking through, and when she tried to pick one the stickiness of the concentration shocked her. She ran her fingertips through the sticky fluid and brought them to her lips out of habit. It had a taste reminiscent of cherry Faygo, which always disgusted her. The short-lived relief quickly shifted back to anxiety again.