Through thick and colorful foliage, avoiding beautiful but deadly flowers, torn by thorns, a stream of steps flows relentlessly.
That trail they left behind seems to deepen in places, the holes looking as if made by spikes in pain.
Scratch marks taint the trees, made by heavy and crude claws.
Splatters of blood cover leaves and patches of grass.
The trail leaves the dense jungle, ending abruptly at the entrance of a breezy glade.
In the middle of the flowery respite a hole breaks the otherwise even beauty.
Looking like it was dug out in desperation by mauling the ground, it gives off a faint and uneven humming sound.
If you listen close enough it sounds like a battle between two dreaded beasts, both hopeless, both lost in rage, both fighting for nothing, and wanting to lose it all.