Date: 2014-01-29 05:20 am (UTC)
pro_patria_mortuus: (time for us all to decide who we are)
The shadows are deep all around them.

There's no purpose in worrying about what lies within them, Enjolras feels; wild beasts must be rare, and humans may be dealt with according to their disposition; he has a cane, even if Grantaire does not, and will repurpose it if he must; whatever these pools of shadow hold is of no concern unless it emerges. Still, he's alert.

The trees are thinner above the path. (That must be it.) The light that filters down is dim, a murky twilight, but sufficient.

He waits, patient.
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