Pale moonbeams illuminated the fog spiraling around
their legs, but did little to illuminate the moor. As they staggered on, their
feet sank into the spongy ground, as though it were trying to impede their
escape. The tall marsh grass was rough against their skin, which peeked through tears in their pants.
Their hearts beat faster at a strange noise in the
distance. Their tired breathing became ragged and raspy as they pushed
themselves out of a trudge and into a wobbly trot.
They noticed the mists rising up around them, now up to
their waists, but they never slowed.
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