Razorback Ridge [m] Sweet lighthouse

Donnie whimpered as he slid down the incline, loose, flat stones beneath his feet and body skittering down the slope. When he hit something larger, he tumbled, and when he tumbled, his momentum picked up. What he didn't realize at the time was that by shrugging him off its shoulder, the ridge had slipped a bit of distance between him and the one who lurked, watching. 

By the time he came to a halt, he was completely covered in grey dirt, and bruises began to flare and flame beneath his skin. He picked himself up carefully, finding himself on more solid ground. His head ached, and could see where the skin had been scraped and torn along his elbows, shins and knees. 

Still- he was closer to the forest, and while currently unrecognizeable between the mountain powder that covered him and the swelling on his face, he began to tread again, slowly, but hopefully.