Grace moved through the forest with her rapier drawn, constantly glancing over her shoulder. Every rustle made her jump. Every shadow looked like a plant-zombie ready to pounce.
[I can't believe Diana abandoned me. 'Just scream if you're about to die.' Wow, thanks for the stellar advice.]
Despite her nervousness, there was something oddly familiar about traversing these woods alone. The dappled sunlight filtering through leaves, the soft earth beneath her feet, the smell of moss and bark and growing things. It reminded her of her old life.
Back when she was just Grace Lightsinger, humble turnip farmer, she'd spend hours in forests like this one. Hunting for herbs, digging up roots, gathering berries and mushrooms. She knew how to move quietly and which plants were safe to touch.
[Who would've thought all that foraging would be useful angel training?]
