Autumn leaves of gold, orange, and other hues drifted down through the branches of tall old oak trees. Their branches arced into a canopy of wood and leaves leaving the forest in dark shade beneath their silent ominous vigil. Despite the sun being high in the sky a palid gloom fell upon the wood as a heavy cloak. Each creak of wood, crack of twig, or skittering of small animals seemed laden in malice and nefarious purpose. The whispering chill in the air promised a deep cold winter. A single per