When Ashrik emerged from the space, the morning was cold and dim beneath the canopy of Shadowgrove. Fog clung to the air like thin veils, and the scent of moss and damp leaves filled his lungs.
Ashrik scanned the surrounding area in the forest. Because unexpected danger became the norm since the beginning of the apocalypse, such practice was deeply ingrained in his bones.
'No zombies or espers.'
Ashrik breathed out slowly once he confirmed no threats lingered nearby. He fished out a full-faced helmet from his backpack and put it on his head.
Though the wind was his ally, he couldn't really stand the breeze hitting his face when flying for a long time. Once he was ready, the wind stirred around him as if responding to his call.
The air gathered under his feet before surrounding his entire figure, lifting him a few inches and then higher. Sunlight hit his face as he rose above the treetops, leaving the canopy beneath.
