Permafrost Hollows now i know what’s real what’s fake

@Zephyr
wc: 307

Phillip hadn’t been back on the beach since gathering coconuts with that woman. The very sight of the sand and salty ocean breeze caused anxiety to sprout in the pit of his stomach. When he walked along the shores, he thought of the Stowaways. He could hear their phantoms chattering, laughing, and mocking him. He could feel the sting of their teeth. Phillip knew they were far behind him, and would never venture out in search of the likes of him, but he still felt like he was being watched there. It’s foolish of him to think that way, but it sparked fear in him nonetheless. 

Exhausted by the ever growing dread, Phillip headed inland again. He hastily passed by places from distant memories, Neverwinter most notably. Guilt tugged at his chest everytime he glanced towards its general direction. He wished his will to flee from the woods wasn’t so deeply rooted in his heart. It could’ve been his home in another life, but not this one. There were too many demons there. 

The land past the mountains were unfamiliar to him. Winter’s come early here. It was unforgivably cold. Phillip was afraid to stop moving. He may freeze to death if he did. So, he weaved his way through the frosted taiga with little rest in hopes of finding an escape. He had no luck, and at one point he was forced to stop and find a place to rest.

Phillip slowly wandered through cavern after cavern, thinking there had to be a safe enough place to sleep somewhere. Each spot he found just didn’t seem to fit the bill. There’d always be a small crack or a distant shrill that scared him off.

It was well past midnight now, and Phillip was still on the search. Slow, half-lidded. He looked like a dead man walking.