The mist surrounds me, like a blanket over my eyes. It disguises the world around me, but covers it with a singular, whole, beauty. I look around me, searching for something, anything, but all there is, is mist. The beautiful, full mist. It is neither perfect, nor full of error. It is nature at it's best, but most hazardous.
My enemies are there, in amongst it, but this fact seems to escape me. This is my native land. I know it more than I know myself. They are chasing me, but I sense their presence, and it does not frighten me. They are lost in this land, and I am found.
The mist covers all that surrounds me; it is part of everything present now. I look at those that follow me, but they do not look back. This is my terrain, and is my world.
I can sense their every move. I can hear their heartbeat and smell their very essence, and yet they still persist in hunting me. I am their prey, and they are the predator, and yet this is all just a game to them. To me, it is more than that, it is