The rain hadn't let up. It seemed to be falling harder and harder as the minutes passed
Drops gathered on the highest branches before falling at irregular intervals, forming small streams of water that trickled down the trunks.
The forest on the outskirts of Migzar was covered in mud, crushed leaves, and exposed roots jutting up like natural traps. The sound of water pounding the treetops was constant, heavy, drowning out almost every other noise.
Puddles had formed among the roots, reflecting distorted fragments of the gray sky and the silhouettes of the trees.
Occasionally, the crack of a branch or the wet sound of mud being trampled managed to break through the rain.
Adam rode forward on horseback among the dark trunks.
The horse's hooves sank slightly into the soft ground, sending up small splashes with every step.
