Chapter 87 Heat Wave

• The final gusts of crisp winter as early spring settled over the earth like a warm blanket still clutched at her shivering form as she trembled her way down the rickety and root-filled pathway.
• She was in no way, shape, or form made to traverse in almost pitch-black darkness in nature’s corridor created by the eerily bony and towering shapes she supposed were once trees. She pondered on how beautiful it must be in the summer when the bare branches were covered with luscious green leaves, but for now, those densely packed branches were as naked as the day she was born.
• Even without any covering whatsoever, those spine-chilling limbs allowed not a single drop of light to enter and that in itself was a danger to someone as clumsy as she. The stillness of the air was almost as eerie as the surroundings themselves.