We come upon two soldiers traveling back to their homelands after a battle that can be described as nothing other than a bloodbath of slaughtered men. (I shall not go further into detail). The men returning carry the burden of their departed friend and fellow soldier. We look on them as they approach a wood with what appears to be a silver mist that glows faintly at its edges. The men are frightened, but dare not say so to eachother.

Soldier 1: “What do you see?”

Soldier 2: “Not so much as see, but feel.”

Soldier 1: “What is it?”

Soldier 2: “I’m not sure. I can sense it lurking deep within the mist. It beckons to the soul you carry.”

Soldier 1: “Should we be rid of him?”

Soldier 2: “No, don’t leave him here for it to find. We must find some other way around it. Or I fear it will drag us along, deep among the depths of that dark, foreboding hell.”

Soldier 1: “You’re sure it is he who resides there, among the misted woods?”

Soldier 2: “No I am not sure, but come my friend, we must return home another way.”