The woodland seemed ominously quiet. They paused, now that even the sound of their own footfalls was silent, all that could be heard was the suppuration of the leaves in the gusty wind. Looking up, they were transfixed by the myriad of fluttering leaves that danced in the high boughs, making a living roof above them. They were calmed, almost hypnotized, but the longer they stared the more the leaves looked like eyes staring back down at them and the boughs seemed to draw closer, blocking the sunlight as if they were forming a cage around them. The woods accelerated the twilight, shrinking what would normally take an hour into just a few minutes. When Tessa entered on the rutted path, carefully avoiding the hoof-sized frozen pools, the light had faded so little she didn't even notice the difference. It wasn't a long trek, it was muddier for sure but it would get her home twenty minutes earlier. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the encroaching gloom and it wasn't for ten minutes that she realized the sun wasn't penetrating the leaves like it usually does and everything was a hue darker than it should be. She picked up her pace but in only five more minutes it was undeniably dark, she could no longer avoid the ruts and her ankle twisted painfully when she made a mis-step. The trees had become silhouettes, the air was colder and the gaiety of the woodland had been replaced with a sense of isolation. Her heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with the exertion of walking. Soon the path and her own feet melted into blackness.

Where was she?

The tree stood ghost-like, the silent observer of the snowy mountains, the river and the clouds. The only thing bigger than range of granite peaks was the midnight sky, dotted with silver and as vast as any eye could wander. Below stood a girl, made all the more tiny, her black, bushy apparel flimsy in the wind. The mountains lay in a great line like the spine of the land. It was as if long ago they were a great beast, only to lie down one day and never get up. Perhaps the beast fell into an enchanted sleep, perhaps its soul was still in there. The range was high to the west and low to the east, curling at the end like a tail. They are the reason our land this side is so lush and the other side is scorching desert. To cross them the clouds must go high and meet the colder air up there, then they dump their rain on us, every drop. The mountains soared up like they wished to challenge the sky itself, they dominated the horizon in every which way we looked except back. But a retreat wasn't an option, our homeland was already colonized, our homes either burnt or taken. The land at our feet was becoming more rocky with every step, the incline getting more burdensome ever so slowly. Sometimes a child would stumble on the loose ground, but carrying them wasn't much of an option. Every adult was laden with the supplies we grabbed on the way out. Our scouts gave us a full half-days notice that the enemy approached, time enough for the gathering of provisions. Some stayed to fight, foolish. We were out numbered and outgunned, what point is there in getting slaughtered? This way we live another day, whatever that brings.

She tripped. Goodness gracious, she had to stop daydreaming. Finally she was out of Worth Woodsea and facing Oak Town.