The sky was not blue that day, but cloaked by a blanket of pearly white. The air was cool; it foretold the bone-chilling bite of winter, but retained summer’s warm breath. The air was thick; the inhale deeply felt like swallowing something. The air was still…until, after many silent minutes spent on that field, the lonely girl watched the grass dance ever so gently in a faint breeze. And then she saw the mist.


A cloud formed on the ground instead of in the sky, and inched its way toward her. Thick tentacles of shimmering silver reached out, but she did not heed their call. The mist would come to her, so why bother moving? She closed her eyes, waiting.


Soon enough, she sensed the fog engulfing her. Its cold, moist touch crept across her skin. She shivered. Upon opening her eyes, she found that she could see naught but opalescence as dewy drops settled on her eyelashes. For a moment, fear encroached on her heart—if she was blinded, then how would she find her way once it was time to move on?


After a few moments of doubt, she glimpsed a shadow moving through the mist. She frowned; how could this person move without becoming lost? She knew he or she wasn’t lost because the movements were purposeful…in her direction. Her breath caught when the figure attained a distinct shape mere feet away, the clear, defined shape of a tall, muscled, broad-shouldered young man. She gazed up at him, her breathing labored from the fog and the presence of someone so stunningly handsome. His eyes captured hers, and held them with an intensity she’d never before encountered. He reached out one hand, and she took it without thinking. He helped her to her feet and embraced her, and she willingly stayed in his arms. It felt right; she was more comfortable here than any other place.


“Come with me,” he said softly, “There’s more to life than sitting in this fog.”


She smiled, and nodded. He smiled back, eyes sparkling, and, taking her by the hand, led her out of the mist.