Under the canopy
In the heart of a dense forest, a shroud of darkness engulfed the surroundings, its tendrils woven tightly through the thick canopy of ancient trees. Moonlight, scarce and feeble, fought valiantly to pierce through the tangled mass of branches, casting eerie shadows that danced across the undergrowth. The air was heavy with an oppressive silence, broken only by the hollow cries that reverberated through the night.
Amidst this spectral landscape, a boy with tousled brown hair sprinted with wild abandon, his eyes wide with fear that mirrored the palpable terror etched onto his features. His ragged and torn suit bore the remnants of a half-torn logo that read "BLACKWOOD," a tattered symbol of an identity that seemed to have been left far behind.