The Shadowed Depths differed from any other part of the forest we had encountered previously. Twisted trees seemed to show over us, their barks wearing dark moss, which looked very much like veins bearing foul blood. The growth was thick, pressing upon us as if some ungrasped force was making it hard to breathe and feel cold. Each step into the forest was like encroaching into a place where we did not belong.
The tension in our group was palpable. Each of its members was sharp, their ears cocked at the tiniest noise. Ember was close, her eyes keen and intent, her body taut, as if prepared to spring upon some stimulus. Silvermane pressed onward, tall and proud, yet even she could not conceal her wary looks about.
As we drew closer inside, voices in the darkness grew louder, seemingly aware that we were there, speaking our names, whispering snatches of memories and regrets, trying to take us back to things we thought we'd forgotten.
