He clenched his throat.
It didn't take him long to realise there was a difference in the forest—no longer a sweet and innocent backdrop behind his training. The trees suddenly had faces, and the winds suddenly screamed and howled. Nothing was out of place, and yet everything was morphed and strangely warped.
Amidst the darkness, he had no way of knowing how far out he was, only aware that a few minutes had passed since from when he left. Those words at the time, when Eofa had casually stated them, completely went over Heath's head. He hadn't truly realised how large a four-mile radius was until he started the trek himself.
Still, with every step he took, he knew he was getting closer and closer to that border's edge. By instinct, he began to slow and lighten his step, unwilling to risk being seen before his journey had just begun.
By correlation, however, this made the walk rather arduous, especially when his eyes would comb through the thousands of shadows that surrounded him, all in an attempt to see something he didn't want to.
The twigs and dried leaves suddenly became landmines, the bushes and low-hanging branches simultaneously obstacles and safehouses. He kept the blade tucked within his leather holster tied firmly around his waist, though truth be told, his hand never hovered far from its haft.
Fast forward another hour or so, and the nature began to feel numbing.
By now, he assumed the border had been passed, treating every step he took like it was life or death. He began to see moving silhouettes that he was quite certain never actually existed—pilfering his mind as they shuffled through the distant trees, a horrid retching beginning to clog the back of his throat.
Aside from the echo of hidden crickets, or the occasional hoot of an owl overhead, or his own footsteps that masked the depths of his mind... he felt as though the forest was unusually inactive. Quiet.
By now... his mind simply couldn't take it anymore. He was going insane, whether he liked it or not.
So it was there, amidst the unparalleled darkness and shadows that never seemed to stay still, he decided he'd had enough. He'd find somewhere safe; a place where his mind could rest and his worries could leave him. Where he wouldn't have to worry about moving shadows or edging nerves.
It was easier said than done, however. He had no idea where to go, let alone where to find shelter to stay the night.
From what he knew, however, a rather notable mountain was formed not far south-west of the cabin. On most occasions, it'd be completely invisible, just barely masked by the tips of the trees. For clearings, however, it rose as clear as day, as if challenging the sky's authority.
If he was already walking south-east, then theoretically, he just needed to pivot to the right. The only thing he questioned was if he'd be able to reach the mountain at all.
That was a prospect he didn't think much of for the remainder of the journey.
And so, with not much else of another option, having been risking his own sanity trying to push forward, he figured a detour wouldn't be the worst idea. Carefully, he redirected his path, fortunately spotting a subtle yet present game trail that cut through the thicket like a knife on butter. The forest not only seemed to get more lush and dark the further he went, but the terrain was notably more uneven, small hills and inclines blocking the way forward at seemingly every turn.
In such, managing to spot the trail in the first place was a minor miracle of sorts, splitting halfway through a minor ravine. The sound of gushing yet slow water could be heard near its base, though it was far too dark to see, only the occasional white foam and refraction from the moon giving away its existence.
Its positioning managed to comfort him—enough room for his head to not be poking out, yet still not deep enough to be totally impassable. If he needed to, he could climb out, if not with a tinge of difficulty.
The sounds of water below him also gave an odd satisfaction, though he gave it no acknowledgment within his mind. In a sense, it reminded him of still being in the spring. It made him feel at home.
Still, he was cautious enough not to let his guard down. Whenever the revine would get partly shallow, he'd duck his head to ensure he couldn't be seen. At times, he'd stop moving altogether, listening in on anything that might be trying to stalk or creep up behind him.
This continued for far longer than he'd like to admit, but he'd rather be safe and slow than fast and dead.
After a long while of walking, however, he noticed the ravine gradually began to incline, matching the terrain around it as a small waterfall billowed water down its frame.
It pained him to have to leave the comfort of the path, but then again, he didn't see much of a better option. The trail itself was rather steep at its slope, so he was practically on all fours trying to climb up it. His boot met a firm rock near the base, and using what force he had, he lifted his weight up as his hands slid against the gravel.
His eyes, for the first time throughout the entire walk so far, weren't on the distant horizon, but at his feet to ensure he wouldn't slip and skid back down.
It was only for a few seconds. Not much could change in a few seconds, he thought. He'd be fine...
But then, once he was certain of his own stability, his eyes paced back up. What he saw next was possibly the thing he dreaded the most; the sight in which he never wanted to see again for the remainder of his life.
Right in front of his face was an eldritch... and his heart nearly stopped in response.