The trees seemed to tower over him as he began to pick up his pace, moving into a steady run. Every tree seemed like an exact copy of the other, so easy for someone to become lost. Huge roots were scattered around, bulging out of the dirt causing him to occasionally trip, although still managing to maintain his balance. Not too far ahead a red rag entered Ash’s sights, the reason why he never got lost when he entered the forest. Ash stopped and untied the knot then stuffed the rag into his trouser pocket. He looked on and continued following the trail of rags he had left himself, untying each and storing them in his pocket.
As time passed by the forest seemed to get darker and more eerie, he could no longer see his feet on the ground, and could barely see ahead of him. Luckily the leaves had already started to fall from the trees leaving gaps above him for the moon to light the way through. Eventually Ash reached a narrow dirt path, winding through tall, leafless trees. It was as if the path had been laid first, then the trees had been carefully lined alongside. The lower halves of the trees were totally bare. Towards the top branches pointed up and across, entangling themselves around the branches from the trees opposite, creating protection from the weather to everything that travelled underneath, but still leaving gaps for light to peer through. This path was the only way into Picker, unless you were to travel through the forest itself without the guidance of the path. For carts and carriages this was the perfect route, the only route. Naturally this meant thieves and thugs hung around, but not usually in the darker hours. Not many people would travel through the forest at those times, most feared they would get lost, or attacked.