Everything looked damp and diseased. The trees might have appeared evergreen and leafy from two miles away, but up close, the brown miasma radiating off them grew more visible, as if the previous greenery had been camouflage or bait, or both. A rotting scent—a combination of petrichor and shit—prevailed against the fog, as if something had died of dysentery all around them. Something eyelike and red winked at Remy from the gloom before dissolving back into darkness.
