All right, two days in a row. I’m on a roll. Not much to say today. It was cold, with a gray sky and a brisk wind from the northwest. Come on, Wind! That’s my home place! Don’t be hatin’! Anyway, the wind here in Kansas City is rough. No mountains, I guess. Speaking of mountains, I believe our sailor friend was just entering some. I guess I should get back to him and see what’s happening.
So, the word: bony. (Hmm…bony….)
The sea and gulls lay dull behind him, muffled by years of thick wood and foliage. The path was damp beneath his feet, almost springy, and well worn. It was strangely hidden, for in entering the wood he had been forced to stoop low and push his way through thick, crawling brush at the forest’s border. Instantly upon stepping through he had found the sound of waves dampened, and the gulls became nothing more than distant cries of protest.
Before ran the trail, straight and true save for a quick zig here or zag there round some bony knee of a tree’s root. Vines and leaves clung to every tree, with moss between. The floor lay under a sprawling carpet of small green leaves and occasional berry shrub, whose furiously red fruit gleamed in the soft light that filtered down through the branches. The breath of fog hung at the tops of the trees, forming a low ceiling that closed in the forest from above, and the ground life crawled up to meet it like walls. Never had the sailor felt so enclosed within a forest. He was no longer outdoors, but inside the forest.
Well, short and sweet. I’m on a time crunch to get to bed before midnight, and as I said before, I want to save the arm. But this is cool. I can imagine using (or building) off of these descriptions for Shadows. Speaking of which, I need to write a bit of that before bed. Till next time!