The green moon-eye thing that had previously been watching them had disappeared, both it and its light swallowed by the endless existence of pitch black clouds that tinted not just the sky, but the world beneath.
Mr. Valen, weakened by hunger lingered behind the crew of three, his breath laborious, his gaze dull.
His hunger had grown.
Since the time he had been instructed to follow them, Mr. Valen had not been spoken to, and despite his many, many piteous attempts to try, he had been swiftly silenced with a sharp hush.
It would appear that silence was of the essence when traveling across lands like this, and in an attempt to occupy himself, Mr. Valen had sought to keep time by counting the number of steps he had taken.
What he had counted so far, was 518,400 steps.
They moved at a slow pace, taking at most two steps in a second, meaning if one calculated the number of steps they had taken at two steps per second, they would have walked for three days without rest.
