On the outskirts of a small town is a quiet little village. Nestled safely between the foot of the mountains and a giggling stream that feeds a thundering river nearby. Hidden by the dark forest whose trees whisper secrets amongst themselves when the wind whistles through the pines.

This village is favored by the Fog.

The Fog settles in when no one is looking. It lingers throughout the day and thickens towards dusk. People are lost in it, but are not afraid. For the Fog protects them from the eyes in the hills and the monsters in the dark.
The Fog wraps little children in its embrace and guides them home when they wander away. It brushes strands of hair away from the eyes of young men and women. It speaks with the elders, reveling in their stories of the past, even though it was there long before they elders were born.

People who are not from that little village fear the Fog. They claim the villagers to be cursed and blind. But the villagers understand the Fog. They welcome it as an old friend into their homes and hearts.

The Fog often takes a form when the occasion requires it. During holidays and festivities, the Fog becomes a beast. The children become afraid, mothers hide their families away and lock their doors. Men take up their spears and shoo the beast away.

The Fog sees their frightened faces and reverts back to its intangible form and slips silently away, back into the mountains and forests. It cannot see itself with its own eyes or in a reflection. It does not understand that the form it takes is of a hideous monster. So every year, it will try again. And every year, the villagers shun it until it reverts back to its less threatening form.

But none of them will ever realize what the Fog hides.

The Man in the Mist who looks after the humans and peers into the Fog to find the lost.