resurrect the saint within the wretch
He finds himself deep within the jungle, pressed against the damp foliage and brushing past them with unpurposeful strides, but ones that are forced and nearly angry. He pulls himself futher in as dark descends on Tephra, granting the steaming jungle with a soft night breeze to flow through the palms and ferns, brushing gently through the darkness of his forelock.
When he feels as though he’s come to what would seem like the epicenter of the thick jungle, he stutters to an ungraceful halt. His nose wrinkles slightly as his eyes glance upwards, peering through the canopy with a near hesitant gaze. Beneath the intertwining branches of numerous palms, the stars that would now shine brilliantly over his head are few to be seen. With a roll of his shoulders, Warden snorts with satisfaction before turning his gaze downwards to glance at the scenery around him.
The jungle’s colors become darker with each minute that passes, quickly becoming only a shadow of green and black. He wonders how dark it will get here, without any light from the beautiful sunset on the horizon (and later, the stars or the moon) and that only leads him to believe if the stars can’t find him here, perhaps no one will.
That thought, however devastating, does not disturb him.
No, the thing that disturbs him is the pinprick of silver that suddenly appears within the shadows far in the distance. A shadow flickers across his face as his expression falls flat, his gaze unwavering from that little point of dancing light.
@[flower]
