9
I keep running along my path through the Dark Forest. I can see why no one likes hanging out in these woods. If trees could be zombies, that’s the dark Forest: both dead and alive at the same time. Even worse, the trees don’t seem too happy about that fate. It’s hard to pull air into my lungs, like the atmosphere is choking with barely-contained rage.
Or maybe the anger is just mine alone. How did I go from a happy honeymoon to running for my life to escape Antrum?
The path takes a sharp turn through the massive black tree trunks. The barest sound echoes through the Dark Forest.
Footsteps.
And worse, they’re the tread of someone who’s trying not to be heard.
There’s a short list of who could be sneaking around the Dark Forest at this time. Ethan. Evil Lincoln. Razor Guards. My guar
