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The Dead Land
The dead silence hanging over the group weighed on Mimir, only adding to the depressing atmosphere that surrounded them. Passing cautiously by more of the broken wanderers, he couldn't help noticing that none of them seemed aware of the intruders in their midst, which made it a little easier to keep his mind on some sort of shelter.
Dyvia couldn't relax in this place, especially after the crow's outburst. It felt strange thinking it through, but the truth was she was more on edge here than around Fenrir! At least around the wolf she knew what was going to happen.
Stalking among the husks of gods, the dwarf could imagine them springing into the perfect ambush at any second. She kept close to Erik to ward off such thoughts, but with how many there were and the Jotun's own tense aura, she knew deep down it was a weak defense.
Theo felt like a mouse here. Small, insignificant, and unworthy to be here. The initial shock of this place had wore off, but he was far from any kind of peace. What could he do with this knowledge? Return home and sound like a broken madman; a crazed drunkard trying to crush everyone's last shred of hope? Like his father?
He knew he was stuck to see this through, but the further they got, the more he worried about what other hard truths they would find.
In this place of isolation and damage, he felt like a mouse. Small in a world that he could no longer make sense of, insignificant amongst the schemes of gods and monsters alike, and a growing sense of being unworthy among this group.