The path out of the black-stone hall started narrow. The floor changed from smooth rock to rough stone, then to dark soil and tangled roots. The air grew warmer the deeper they walked.
Then the humidity hit them. It was thick, wet, and smelled of damp leaves, rotting wood, and mud. Underneath it all was a sharp, animal scent that lingered like a warning.
Massive trees rose on every side. Their dark, rough bark was covered in faint, dormant runes. The runes pulsed once as the group passed, then went still. The jungle seemed to notice them, then decide they weren't worth the effort yet.
Wukong wiped sweat from his forehead. "I forgot sweat existed. Who invented this?"
"Your body," Runar said without looking back.
"Then your body has bad manners."
Runar gave no reply. His attention was on the trees.
