Chapter Eight
The sun had melted fully away in the west, rolling through the colors of the rainbow, yellow then orange, to a melancholy pink and finally a deep caramel that slowly dissolved into darkness. The moon was not yet high enough in the sky for its light to penetrate the trees. Micah Stevens was unaware that this was the darkest this night would get. The land was uneven, every step treacherous with rocks and sticks. He’d picked up a stick as big around as the handle of a ball bat and as long as he was tall. He was using it like a blind man used a walking stick. He’d found it after he’d stumbled into a tree with thorns as long as his pointer finger. One of those thorns had opened him up along his skinny right bicep.
Micah tripped going up a steep incline and went down on his blind
