“The trees leaned over; their wind stirred fingers interlaced like bones. Kit found himself ducking as if through low doorways whenever he looked up, and drawing shallow breaths that tasted of moss and musk and mildew. His right eye showed a smoky power moving within the coarse-barked trunks. The trees were young, saplings scattered among a few old giants, the wood had been cut from memory, and Kit wondered if that were the reason for the appalling stench of hate and old blood clotting the senses.”
Book:Hell and Earth
