The Stranger continues his mission.
Traversing from grasslands
To a forest filled with dead trees.
Walking upon a Beaten Path.
Critters going about their night
Feasting,
Grooming, and
Running.

The Stranger stares up at the Moon
It has reached it's peak.
Within moments he realizes the Moon
Seemed a bit different.
It donned a waxing crescent.
As if smiling to him.
Goosebumps appeared on his arms.
Creepy, he thought to himself.

The Stranger contiuned onward.
The night acompanyed him,
With every step and breath.
The cold was becaming ever more bitter.
He pulls the hood over his head.
Trees began singing their ghostly songs.
Critters seemed to be banished,
As if the Beaten Path forced them off.

The Stranger felt unease.
"Something isn't right here."
He mumbled to himself.
But his lips did not part.
In fact it was a bit diffcult to open.
Actually it wasn't even budging.
Then his eyes fell upon a figure.
He stopped dead in his tracks.

The figure moved closer and closer,
Faster and faster.
He wanted to say something.
He wanted to fight.
He wanted to run.
He wanted to finish his mission.