It was a cold, gloomy night. The air
was calm, almost unmoving. The grass swayed slightly, not from the
wind, for there was none. Trees creaked along the edge of an
abandoned farm. A figure ran. It dashed through the overgrown
field of grass, it didn't look back. Not yet, he still needed to make
sure. Climbing the the rotting wall he scampered into an empty room.
It was then that he looked back. He was running, running away
from an unknown danger. He heard it as he walked through the forest,
the