He was walking on the evident water. The maturing verdant ocean appeared stretching through the void, nearly filling half of the azure heaven.
It was looking clean and innocent, a contrast to the condition of the sky that was laid behind him—poured of threatening orange from the blazing fires ignited from the collapsing kingdom.
Crunch, crunch. There were no splashing heard when the emerald greens crunched constantly as his footwear met the water, which appeared to be vegetation growing wild on the field. The intention was to reach the forest but it seemed much farther than how Sungho imagined.
For how long until we arrive there?
He thought to himself. The hem of his skirt caused the grasses to produce these fluttering noises, joining the thin squelching from him running. Sungho felt disturbed, irritated that he could not run faster because of the dress, which Chun made him wear for the grand funeral.