The world is two colors.
It is red and white and grey.
The world is two colors. Like the sunset.
It is wretched and it is ugly.
In moments such as this, one can only see its darkness.
Obed pushed off the corpse of one of the largest rabi dog Abominations.
His breathing was ragged and his visions swimming.
Despite being at the very rear of all the gathered refugees, he had been one of the first to be singled out.
And he had an idea why.
Underneath the bandages covered his broken arm was not just a normal arm anymore, but an arm that had begun to rot, so much it had stopped rotting at one point and had begun mutating.
At first, he had thought to just cut it off. But that probably wouldn't have solved the problem, and it wasn't so easy to cut off an arm.
He huffed deeply and began trudging forward, towards the line of trees.
There was no hope for him in Liedenstorm anymore.
