Phoenix Maplewood through the curtains of the waterfall.

Along with the upheaval of his routines, he's not finding this very pleasant. At first, and only sometimes, there had been some entertainment to be had with all of the overwhelming newness. Once tiredness really began to set in and he missed the cozy comforts of home, even those were hard to find though. On the whole, Silas was not in a very good mood about this.

Oftentimes the dark son is quiet with a worried, watchful furrow on his face. He usally does what he can to be near his siblings. He unknowingly senses they need him as much as he needs them. If he's not with them, he's sure to never be out of sight of someone else and it really makes him miss prowling through the Hollow's underbrush sorely. He's too wary of nothing smelling like anything he knows to go anywhere else to do anything else, even if he somehow feels cooped up and exposed out in the open at the same time.

Silas wakes fitfully when the locusts start invading the area and his bleary, sleepy head struggles to process the full extent of how awful this was. Once the bugs become thick enough to crash into him peridically, he huddles close to his mother's protective presence, knowing above all else that he's just downright tired of feeling scared somehow.