Do they always fall like that?
A man who went out hunting near the lighthouse in the evening didn't notice how deep he went into the thicket. It suddenly got dark. The sun sets quickly here, and the darkness is so thick you can't see anything. In his last four turns, bleeding and holding a smoldering torch, he struggles through the ugly, angular, dirty greenish thickets, fleeing from black war hounds, hoping to reach the tavern. The blood is somehow black too.