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Fog begins to resettle, disturbed by the monster’s failed mad scramble to safety, it eeks forward, crawling along the forest floor towards the massive corpse. The mist engulfs the Shades up to their knees and slivers onwards, reaching the hulk of flesh weeping with black blood. Shades stab their knives into spots between the scales, prying them off the cadaver, digging the blades through the weak joints. You need to move on; sitting here or following them is too risky. While you don’t know how they see the world around them with their eyeless faces, it is too dangerous to sit still and pray they don’t spot you.
Looking around at your friends, you realise you do not want to open your mouth and vocalise your thoughts. If their sense of hearing has grown to compensate for their lack of sight, any words shared between your group would instantly alert the Shades. Instead of speaking, you make signals with your hands, pointing in the direction where Arine was lost to the humanoids of this jungle realm of darkness. At first, they do not understand, primarily due to them being captivated by the sight of these bizarre shadow beings. Only when you start to creep across the branches, away from the kill site, do they understand and follow your trail.
Soon, the Shades you encountered have been left behind, divvying up the carcass, but you still move with care to minimise your sound. With each leap between branches, you muffled your landings with the Force, stealing the sound that would echo throughout the night of the forest. Jumping from tree to tree, you pick up speed and silently race along the treetops. Periodically, you look behind yourself, making sure your party is still there, that you do not have any stragglers left behind, and you are not alone in the estranged world.
Looking into the faces of your companions, you see your uncertainty of the place reflected in Scion's face, while Luke and Alyla do not let their discomfort show in their visages, but you can spy the hidden emotion in their eyes. Claire is the most affected in the group; she has positioned herself in the centre of your formation. Her haunted eyes dart around, trying to spot the beast that will throw itself out of the darkness and snatch her in its talons. She clasps her Lightsaber hilt as if it can bring her some stability, with a white-knuckled death grip. Her long golden-white plait, turned grey by the lack of light, billows behind her, carried by her powerful leaps between trees.
