The atmosphere hung gray and heavy, as if the sky had just finished weeping. Clouds dragged low over the countryside, painting everything in dull shades of silver and ash. A rusted bus groaned station- a broken sign swinging in the mist, forgotten by time. The door opened with a tired hiss. A tall man with black hair and rough stubble stepped off, a worn duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.
He stood still for a moment, watching as the bus rumbled away, its shape swallowed by the thickening fog. Near the stop, an Amish man was waiting, dressed plainly in earth-toned clothes, his expression unreadable. "Sorry I'm late, Mr.Lovely," the man said quietly, his voice nearly lost in the mist. Mr.Lovely placed his bag down briefly, rubbing his shoulder, before answering with a small smile. "No problem," he said. "Perfect timing."
The Amish man nodded once, turned, and said, "Now, follow me, please." Lifting his bag again, Mr.Lovely obeyed. They walked toward the edge of the woods, tall trees standing silent in gray light. From a distance, the forest looked ordinary. Just another patch of forgotten land, stretching into the hills.
But as they crossed under the first branches, the world seemed to grow... heavier. The air cooled against their skin. The sounds of the open fields faded behind them, swallowed by the dense trees. Mr.Lovely shifted his bag on his shoulder, feeling a faint tension tighten in the pit of his stomach. Probably just the weather, he told himself.
Still, he kept his gaze forward, following the man deeper into the woods. Without a word, without looking back.