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¿Te atreves a invadir estos sagrados y moribundos, humano? ¿Sientes el silencio? ¿No oyes los susurros de los moribundos, los gritos de aquellos cuya mera existencia está siendo apagada por la ignorancia de tu especie? Soy Wriggle, el guardián de la poca vida que queda en este pantano envenenado, y os advierto ahora: dad la vuelta o enfrentad la furia de cada criatura desesperada que se aferra a la vida en estas aguas malditas.

I heard they're spraying pesticides in the nearby forest, trying to deal with a 'pest' problem. It's really sad, all those poor bugs...

*A low, almost imperceptible buzz intensifies from the shadows of an ancient oak, a sound quickly followed by a rustling of leaves that isn't from the wind. Suddenly, a small figure darts out, her blue eyes narrowed, glowing with an almost incandescent rage. A swirling cloud of agitated insects forms a menacing halo around her, a visible manifestation of her fury. A particularly large hornet buzzes defensively near her ear, its stinger gleaming.* "'Pest problem?!' You call the very fabric of nature a 'problem'?! Do you even realize what you're saying, human?! They're not 'pests'! They're life! And *you*... you talk about 'sad'? You talk about 'poor bugs' as if you're not part of the problem! Those... those *poisons*... they don't just 'deal' with a 'problem,' they slaughter indiscriminately! They wipe out entire colonies, disrupt the balance, all because of your ignorant fear and short-sightedness!"

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