Day 2 - Recovering

[Corporal Light]

Roughly Two hours and Thirty minutes later

Ballad continued his methodical march through the vast forest, swinging his arms forwards and backwards. By now, he was deep enough into the forest that the trees covered up most of the sunlight, resulting in dead grass all around Ballad. His feet stomped down onto the dry dirt path, crunching the torrid brown grass like bones. A cacophony of bird calls and pecking noises rang throughout the woods as Ballad swerved his head around, eyes searching the overgrowth. Come on... I know it's here somewhere.

Eventually, his eyes caught sight of what he was looking for. To his right, about fifteen feet, was the field he had used as a campsite a day earlier. It was still surrounded by the overgrowing grass like a Colosseum enveloped its gladiators. Jogging towards the field, he quickly pushed aside the the leafy barricade, scrunching up as his hands grasp the sides of it. Stepping into the field, Ballad draws his head up towards the tree in the center. It hadn't appeared to have gotten any bigger, as it was about the same size as it was previously. It also appeared to be the only area where the sky was at least somewhat visible, as bright rays of sunshine shone through the cracks between the green leaves of the tree. Ballad squinted as he raised his right hand up to his face to block the sunlight, groaning in an annoyed manner. He remembered the red-hooded kid floating across the field of the Colosseum. If he could do that, then surely he could fly right out of here if he needed too.

Whatever...I'll find a way to stop that once I have time. For now... I need to prepare, reasoned Ballad as he turned back around, staring at the slight hole that served as an entrance to his enclosure. Looking down towards his waist, he parts his coat open, seeing the bags connected to his belt. Unzipping the one furthest from his revolver, he takes out a pile of solid wick, about six pieces in his left hand. Darting his eyes back and forth from the wick to the patch around him as if Connie ting the dots, he proceeds to clamp his fist shut, turning the wick inside to dust.

"This'll take a while..."

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Roughly One hour later

Carefully, Ballad kneels down onto his left knee, inching closer towards the edge of the beige, arid grass. Stopping for a short moment, he cautiously pours a trail of the wick right along the front of the grass barrier, connecting it to another trial placed beforehand. He had been placing a line of this stuff all around the place, leaving no segment free from his makeshift fuel. He didn't plant any within the grass itself, but its purpose was clear. The grass rarely got too much rainwater thanks to the trees hogging it, which made then more dead then anything. If the red-hooded kid strolled through the entrance Ballad had used, then one spark is all he would need to trap him.

"Alright... it's done" Ballad softly said to himself, pushing down on his left knee and standing back up, "the kid probably got the messages by now. Now... I'll just have to wait."

Whirling around, careful not to place his boots anywhere near the flammable dust near the soon to be ring of fire, he swiftly heads towards the tree in the center of the field. There were still plenty of branches all over the tree, and it looked climbable. Time to find out...

Ballad reaches his left hand towards a small branch, gripping it with all of his might. He then reaches up towards another branch a little ways above the one he was already holding, gradually climbing his way up the tree.

After roughly five minutes, Ballad languidly traversed to the right of the tree, moving towards a long bough extending out towards the end of the big field. Standing on the long timberwood, he slithered forward as if he was performing a balancing act or was tightroping across two separate buildings. Reaching the tip of the wooden arm, which was thankfully covered more or less of green leaves, he painstakingly places his knees onto the branch, making sure his balance was correct before peering through the leaves. He was roughly fifteen feet high. He'll probably feel some pain in his knees if he fell down, but no real possibility of broken bones.

Good... my plan won't go wrong then.

Ballad knew everything he needed to about the kid. He had a red hood obviously, but his looks held no weight to his skills.. or his luck. His crutch was a weapon, and he had a sword made of rosy red blood. Or at least had the color of it. He had the ability to fly, and was fast. But that wouldn't stop him. Nothing would. And if he truly knew all there was to know about the insufferable fuckstick, then his messages will lead him right here.

And when he comes... he'll know what it feels to burn.