The scowl-faced boy canted his head at the uncomfortable noise, making sure to watch carefully the movement of the temporal tides of the wispy gray smoke. His heart tightened when he saw it go in the direction of the cart in a phantom-like trace, vanishing once more. It was certain that this was no natural occurance now. What could this strange entity be doing? Was this the work of some crazed hag or witch? It could be what Ezekiel had said, that this was a kind of hex used to influence their minds. Or was this power from some new breed of monster they've never encountered before? It wouldn't be the first time these desolate plains have ushered out a new terrible creature. He could only make wild guesses, but the only possibilities out this far into the wastelands were nothing short of grim. His body has already been set in motion the moment he found reason to dread, his time as both urchin and squire having taught him to never take any chances when it came to life and death. 

	Reaching down and pulling out the thin dagger in his boot, Mikhael called out to Ezekiel, legs kicking up in a sprint as he pushed after the fleeting figure.
	"I think we should hurry." he pressed, "The others might be in danger."

...