CHAPTER 40
Steadman squinted up at the lowering sky. A veil cloaked the forest, composed of ash and fog, cutting visibility and stinging his eyes, making the trek through the thick undergrowth more challenging and dangerous the further he pressed on. He heard faint noises from the other men in the group, but they were distorted and unreliable as indicators of distance or direction. The mist separated them from one another, culling them apart like a living entity, and a jolt of desolation stabbed through Steadman, making him feel as if he were the last man standing in a deserted world.
Brambles tugged at his pant legs, snagging the fabric, scratching at the skin beneath. The smell of damp leaves and moss, slimy and moldering underfoot, rose up from the ground, growing stronger as his boot
