The corpse felt grief. Not his own, but of another. He smelt sorrow in the air, he tasted guilt. His dead eyes followed the man. It was the same one he had encountered earlier this evening. Curious. The old man was seeking something, yet he wandered about as if lost. Was that what he tried to achieve? The corpse arose and dashed, faster than the eye could see, from one patch of darkness to another, circling the old man as he moved forward. Even though the moon shone bright, the figure appeared as nothing more than a formless mass at first, not unlike the shadows one sees in the corners of their eyes when the light is low. Gradually, he came closer, and his circles became ever smaller. His interest grew. This was not a sinner. He was a lost soul with nowhere to turn to. He was seeking the Lost Woods. In a split second, what was once one of the many shades cast by the forest became a pillar before the old man, blocking his way. Wrapped with a cloak that flailed wildly in the wind, the creature raised his head. White, dry skin stretched across an old skull, and contrasted the surroundings starkly, making it seem as if it were aglow with a soft white light. Shrunken lips barely covered sharpened, crooked teeth. There were no eyes, only sockets.

 [b][color=696969]"You seek the Wood. But it is lost. It has been since before your birth. Yet you seek salvation. And that I can procure. What ails you?"[/color][/b]