Lizzie could see it up ahead, a faint orange glow pulsing through the trees, the promise of salvation. Paragon.
The sky shone black, but all around her the forest was lit like silver midday, the bright full moon illuminating the world in white and shadow. Each leaf, each branch, each long blade of underbrush rising from the floor stood out in crisp, stark contrast.
Lizzie felt like she was walking on another planet, one where the sun glimmered in blue-gray and steel, a periwinkle fantasyland.
It'd been many days - nine? eleven? - since the explosion shattered Lizzie's world, and hunger, dehydration, shock, and terror were taking their toll on her mental capacities. However long it'd been was too long - she needed help. And she needed answers.
She'd been replaying her last moments of clarity on repeat for days, in between fits of sleep. But none of it made sense.