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Taking his thin fingers, he created a tight set of pincers with his nails and plucked the obstruction out. In his hand, it couldn't have been more than the size of one of his cuticles. He let out a nervous laugh, realizing that this great injury was simply an excuse to keep from going any further. The great dark unknown in front of him was imposing and genuinely discomforting. Looking back, he noticed that no other stretch of forest seemed so dark as the one directly in his path. Yet something that should have cautioned him from going any more instead insisted that he go farther. He got up on his shaky feet and adjusted himself accordingly. A tremor of anxiety ran up and down his body, little needles that caused his skin to crawl and tremble. Of all the virtues instilled in Harrow, bravery was the one lacking. And at this moment in time, he seemed as unsure of himself as he could possibly be. Yet, his intent was still clear. He wanted to uncover more of the forest before heading back.

He gradually brought each foot before him and began a slow and awkward march into the darkness. He seemed to recall, as a young elf, a time when he had been playing in a shallow patch of the Tempos Lagoon. His brothers and sisters were calling on him to come further out into the water, but Harrow was much too afraid. In the shallow end, the water was bright and clear, and the floor seemed welcoming. Still he went against his better judgment and followed his siblings' voices. Almost instantly, he noticed the ground becoming softer and grimier. He felt his feet sink with every advancing step, as if he had walked into a giant bit of moss. The water was instantly cooler and dark, and he wished so very much that he could go back. A sudden change in winds caused him to lunge forward and he took another step into the open water. His foot sank nearly three feet this time, and he felt the surface of the lagoon instantly rise from his abdomen right up to his neck. He stopped immediately, unable to move, paralyzed with fright. He felt himself drifting, and he could sense that the bottom of the lagoon was becoming steeper still. And there he stayed until his brothers swam up and dragged him out of the water.

It was this same feeling that now plagued Harrow as he took another awkward step into the forest, and out of the clearing. Almost instantly, he felt a slight breeze brush up against him. Slight it may have been, but it was cold and foreboding, and entirely unpleasant to bear. The sounds of the animals seemed to have faded entirely, and what was left was the hollow, eerie resonance of winds traveling through the labyrinth of trees.

Harrow's eyes took their own time to become adjusted to the sudden dark. The leaves on the forest floor in this region were dried up and made crackling noises under his feet. The contrast that he was witnessing between what he had seen before reaching the clearing and now seemed to him remarkable. And instead of taking caution with this unexpected change in atmosphere, Harrow found it a reason to advance.