WARNING: the next few chapters will all be shorter than usual.

Hoya awoke to a damp chill all over his body, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a thick, grey fog. He knew immediately that something was wrong, because he wasn't in a tree any longer, instead was on the hard, cold ground, and neither did he have his pack of belongings. Panic ran through him and he stood, a bit unsteady with the fog so thick as to make it hard to tell if he was upright or not. 

No weapon to defend himself, no supplies to warm or feed himself, and no idea how he had gotten into this predicament. An inexplicable urge to move ran through him, something that he tried to push away, because to move in this thick fog meant to chance injuring himself on the unseen world at his feet. But the urge persisted and grew stronger, and finally, he gave in.

He moved carefully, nudging his feet along the ground instead of lifting them, feeling for anything in front of him with his hands. He didn't know how long he did this snail like crawl, but when he was finally about ready to just give up and sit, the fog began to part. a heavy rain opened up above, and any piece of clothing or hair that had not yet given in to the persistent dampness of the fog was immediately soaked. The water cut like frozen knives into Hoya's body, and he hunched his shoulders as he wrapped his hands about himself. 

The rain did drive the fog down, though, and made moving easier, so he set off once again, this time just searching for somewhere he could get out of the downpour. He wasn't in a forest any longer, a fact that unnerved him almost as much as his strange awakening and missing belongings. The land about him was dark with night and the ground under his feet made of smooth, worn stone, as if people's feet had wore it down. He doubted he would find anything, and yet, there through the sheets of rain ahead of him, he spotted what seemed to be the glow of a fire.

Oh, a fire, he thought with longing, the chill in his body becoming more prominent in the forefront of his mind as he spotted the warmth ahead. The problem was, the fire would surely be tended by someone. He couldn't just walk up and expect them to share their camp, could he?

If only the world were as his father had been. Loving, kind, willing to share and help even if it meant going without. Hoya gave a roll of his cold, soaked shoulders, and