Not all of the plants of Moonshadow are immediately deadly; some are quite palatable, if mildly hallucinogenic. The first taste of all foods on Moonshadow is bitter: the foul smelling meat, the misshapen roots, the diseased mushrooms, and the blighted fruits; all carry the taint of bitterness when first they touch the tongue. Yet this bitterness does not last.
The second taste is better, the third better yet. With each meal the foods of this world taste better, but, after four meals, the visions begin; a common early illusion is the soft sound of footfalls coming from a place just outside one's vision.
The effects grow steadily more maddening; spiders under one's skin, voices urging the death of one's companions, shadows reaching out for one's heart and soul. None have remained sane after nine meals of Moonshadow's fare, their catatonic, twitching, keening forms make for easy prey for the nightmares less ethereal that stalk the lunae dappled woods.