Ravensblood Forest Welcome To My Crib

It is pitch-black. Colin walks blindly behind Donovan, clutching at smells, noises, the feel of roots and forest loam under his feet. He stumbles once or twice, but manages to regain his footing. He ignores the sharp stabs of pain in his stomach.

The dark pulses with his heartbeat. Purple smears, amorphous and plodding, raise their heads and walk around him. He squints as if that's effective in any way (it isn't). When Donovan stops at a tree, squat and undoubtedly ugly, Colin leans on one of the thick roots. The bark is rough against his shoulder. "I'm sorry they don't like you much." He offers, trying to make sense of where Donovan's silhouette started and where it ended. 

"As soon as you and your people settle, they have to leave?" A sympathetic hmm. The furrow between his eyes deepens. "Where's the new place then?" The fractured light falls on both of them. Nature's excuse for a stained-glass window.