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It had been a long day. Beren’s con had been discovered, and they’d fled the town, curses and violence spat after the pair. Valandia slumped against a tree, her hazelnut eyes and acorn brown skin blending her in with the woodland, as a forest elf was meant to. Being in nature for too long made her skin crawl.
Beren’s neon orange skin shone like a beacon, and one that Valandia focused on, her eyes their own fiery beacon. They were her lighthouse.
Unfortunately, the night crept in sooner than either of them wanted, and darkness smothered the pair like a suffocating blanket. Beren wasn’t unprepared for survival situations, and Valandia wasn’t stupid, so they did have enough in their packs to last the night. They curled up together, limbs entangled and snug despite the chill.
The sun filtered through the sky, and Valandia blinked her eyes open. The forest looked bright, but dull, and the green of the leaves was paler than in the dark of the night before. She turned over to see Beren, and started, attempting to pull herself away from the earwig that wriggled and cured around her. She stumbled over backwards, landing on a hard shell of a back.
She froze, seeing 6 limbs waving in the air before her. Segmented limbs, that wriggled and made her skin crawl. The trees cast shadows over her that made the darkness swell, and her new carapace felt rough against the ground. If she could’ve, she would’ve screamed. Instead, she just lay there.
In the dark.