The scorch marks on the trees increased. They were denser now. Circles as big as a man's torso, but none of the scorch marks touched the ground. It was baffling to wonder how flames could ever reach that high, and yet not touch the floor at all.
He had the sense that he was nearing something. The forest floor was pointing towards that. The trees themselves seemed to be reaching their branches, pointing with long fingers, telling him what was up ahead. It was strange to him to realize that they'd not abandoned him, despite all that he'd done.
It was thick now. There were piles of them. One shorter tree had been hit by a scorching impact halfway up its trunk so hard that it folded over.
The axe in Vol's hand was welcome. He had to squeeze it to make sure it was there. He tried not to dwell too much on the destruction to his surroundings, and the incredible might that would have been necessary to cause it.
