The fog thickened again.
Renkai's small paws sank into moss and rotting leaves as he moved forward, slow and cautious. The trees were barely visible now—only silhouettes in the white veil that wrapped around everything like breath frozen in time.
He walked with his body low, ears alert, every step quiet. The deeper he went, the more he felt it.
He wasn't alone.
Suddenly, a cold shiver ran through him.
Shapes were moving ahead—vague and gray, like water-stained ink.
He gasped, instinct pulling him backward, and he darted into the shelter of a thick, lush bush. Its broad leaves concealed him, damp and fragrant. He pressed himself into it, trembling.
Through the branches, he watched.
A ghostly figure drifted past—tall and swaying, with robes that fluttered like smoke. Its face was featureless, a blur of pale shadow, but in its hands it held a massive tassel, dragging across the earth like a ceremonial banner long forgotten.
