The misty air condenses swiftly.
Your vision blurs and leaves you quickly.
You hear a growl, but only barely.
The chilling air the night has brought thee
Stabs your throat and lungs abruptly.
Something stirs and bounds towards thee;
Hungry eyes that glare intently.
This is only one of many.
The Fog conceals the hunting party.
Leaving you to wonder, grimly.
If, at least, it will end quickly…
Bedsforth 