Amidst the Mists
He put out a hand and leaned it against a tree trunk, while he gasped. He had been running, and he was sweaty and breathless. He had run and run, and finally ran into a fog bank, and after that he was finally able to stop to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember why he was running. Was he running to, or running from? He thought it was probably from, because he had run into the White for safety and reprieve. But who or what was he running from, and why? Was he a child, running from punishment? Was he a man running from some natural disaster? Was he running from a person or a thing? Or maybe even just a thought, or a fear? Why didn’t he know the answers? And where was he? While he had been running, his feet had known where they were going, so he was on home territory, but oddly enough, he couldn’t remember where home was, other than where he was. Maybe he was dreaming? Maybe it was the fog? Fog could do weird things, not just to sight, but also to sound, to ...