Chapter 52: The Location
"I'm just saying," Pete muttered for the tenth time that morning, tugging a burr from his sleeve with exaggerated offense, "mushrooms that purple shouldn't exist. That's a 'death by breakfast' color, Odi. You eat that, and you're gonna dream in reverse for a week. Backwards. Like time unwinding and your insides doing the tango."
Odi didn't dignify it with a reply. She was obviously devastated from listening to him talk about random things at every slight opportunity. She stepped over the odd, glimmering fungus, her boots squelching quietly in the soft rot below. Her eyes were fixed on the barely visible trail winding between twisted trunks, knotted roots, and branches that reached too low, too eagerly—like the forest itself wanted to grab at her.
Pete, of course, kept going.
