Her throat was dry from singing—singing and then humming as the hours passed. The same tune over and over again, just as he had directed, yet the horizon had still remained completely out of view.

Beside her, touching the hem of nightgowns the grass waved in the breeze tickling her feet as she walked by. Step after step note after note , the fog did not lift. Surely she couldn’t sing forever.

Her mind wandered momentarily back to fact that her throat was still dry and she tried to forget it, there was no water here, the man had not given her any or anything else for that matter.

The wind picked up,tosseling her hair and irrating her eyes and yet not at all effecting the fog. Through squinted eyes she peered into the abyss, no more than a few feet of the path were visible to her eyes and she was all but certain that only a fool would venture in that direction.

But then again, she _was_ one singing bearfoot and alone in the woods.