Figure in the Fog
"Hello?" you ask, tremblingly. You grope forward, on hands
and knees, and strain to see. "Hello? Who's there?"
"Gwilbrin?" An unsteady, though quite masculine, voice
pierces the pale, swirling air. "Is it you, Gwilbrin?" The
form nears.
The mists part to reveal...
You clamber almost desperately along the deserted streets; and look
around, frenziedly, for any sign of life. Nothing, though, meets your
wearied, blurred eyes: nothing but a thick falling rain and a gray
mist. You stop squinting, as it hurts your eyes badly; but soon a
vague figure is made out...
