The thick canopy of the eastern woods completely swallowed the morning light. The air was incredibly humid, carrying the scent of wet pine needles and damp earth.
Silas walked with a steady, unbreakable rhythm. The brass rings on his wooden staff jingled softly with every single step. He did not use the staff to feel the ground. He held it upright, walking perfectly straight through the dense, twisted roots and heavy bushes.
Khaos walked exactly two steps behind the monk. His tiny leather boots squelched in the mud. He had been walking for three hours. A normal boy of four years would be crying from exhaustion. Khaos was not tired. He was just deeply annoyed by the silence.
"Are you actually blind?" Khaos asked loudly.
"Yes," Silas answered without turning his head.
"Then how do you know where the trees are?" Khaos pressed. "You have not walked into a single tree. And you completely avoided that large badger hole back there."
