She ran as far and as fast as physically possible, thorny vines grabbing, cutting her fair skin. Lascella had to get away, find her way out, find a way back no matter the cost.

500 yards further and she would be out.

That's where she woke, where she would find a way home.

Would her family know she had been gone all this time?

Would they have missed her? Or have they given up the search and finally mourned her?

Would her stained green skin ever come clean? Her nails were dirty and the color of the ground beneath her.

BROWN.

This color of death, of repugnant, rotting sewage running freely down the streets.

400 yards.

She had been there for so long, suffering from a sickness indescribable.

Her stomach bulged, feeling like the green tendrils were wrapping around her insides, an alien forcing its way out.

300 yards.

She couldn't bear to see his face again after what happened. He had betrayed her, hidden their purpose behind a kind smile, beautiful clothes and fancy affairs.

The nightmares had come and never gone. The human race she so lovingly belonged to was a laughing stock, or rather, a failed breeding stock.

200 yards.

The pain is taking over, one step at a time. She won't make it, she'll never see her family again.

100 yards.

There's no gate, no road, no vehicle to take her home in sight. How was it she came to be here?

If only she could remember anything before that deceivingly handsome smile woke her...

She stops.

Her heart beat is rushing in her temples, blurring her vision. All her eyes lay on before a painful oblivion takes over is a dead, BROWN plant just large enough to lay in.

She collapses on top of it, seeing nothing but the BROWN inside of her eyelids as everything fades away.

Brown. The color of Death