Chapter 3: Rotten Tree
He staggered forward, each step sending an aching throb throughout his injured leg.
His steps were uneven, pulled sideways by the pain from the earlier run.
The surrounding forest, or what used to be one, was way too quiet now. The kind of silence you witness at graveyards, like the world had paused.
The trees that lined the path ahead weren't green or full of life; They were sick, their trunks white and stripped of bark. Their branches sagged low, draped in gray rot and strands of something like spider silk.
The impact with the ground turned the remaining leaves to ash instantly. The wind brought more of it down. They looked like snowflakes, but warmer when they touched the skin.
The air smelled like poultry and animal dung, making it hard for him to breathe. He had to wrap his clothes around his face to filter the air.
He didn't know how long he'd been walking — minutes? Hours? Or probably days? There was no way to tell.
The star (sun) that lit up the sky was dim, as if something was blocking most of the light from reaching the ground, making the environment look gray. And that felt disturbing.
At first, he didn't notice the ground was sloping upward, it was slow and steady, making it hard to realize. Each step took a little more effort than the last, and his ankle started to ache more than before.