The forest had long since lost its sense of peace.
At the beginning of the second year of the apocalypse, even the trees seemed to grow with caution. Their branches twisted in unnatural angles, leaves sparse and dull, as if afraid to draw attention.
The wind blew, carrying the faint, metallic stench of decay. It was mixed with damp earth and old gasoline, a recipe for an unpleasant smell.
Ashrik moved cautiously through the tree after descending from the sky. His steps were light and precise, trying not to disturb more than necessary.
Traveling alone had taught him one thing well. Even with the advantage of having a space, he still paid extra attention to everything.
A mask covered the lower half of his face, filtering the smell. A pair of goggles rested over his forehead, a device he had to rely on when flying because his control over his ability wasn't perfect yet.
'It should be around here.'
