Just as he had predicted that morning, the day had been generally peaceful. There were a few bumps along the road, mostly from the agitation caused by the approaching Equinox, but other than that they were right on schedule. He even managed to forage for most of the things he would need to make the hot meal that he had promised Aethel that morning — some of the leaves from a towering Nettle cluster that they passed along the way. A medley of collards, hidden within the grass, the head of a couple of dandelions that had begun to bloom to greet the coming spring and a few other wild herbs and vegetables they passed along with a handful of frost berries growing beneath a small dusting of snow that had managed to ward off the warmth beneath the shade around the base of one of the few giant oaks that managed to spring this far away from the tree line, far, far in the west.

It was underneath one of these that the fog began to set in. It first rolled in on a southward blowing breeze, as slow as time itself, over the Sea of Grass and just over the heads of the rams. The herd made their way through it for a moment, but it didn't seem to be letting up, even with the heat of the midday sun beating down on them from above. Though he didn't really mind as the fog only came up to his waist. In his position he could see the shadows of his rams moving forward through it.  If it were any higher, however, that would be a different story. Then he would definitely have trouble seeing, and he wouldn't be able to navigate the grass... If it were any higher, or if he were any lower...

“Aethel! ”Johnathan called above the bleating of the rams and the flowing fields of mist. His voice rolled off the plains and echoed across the flat. “If you can hear me, make your way to me!”

A few minutes later Aethel stumbled through the herd into view, sweat beading down her forehead, causing the top of her ornate hood to stick to her skin.

“Thank you.” Aethel managed to warble out, “I couldn't find my way through the fog.” She admitted. “I was lost.”

“Speaking of the fog," He said, looking away from the fae-kin and back over their herd. They walked together, matching the slowness of the herd's pace, "what do you make of it?”

“What do you mean? It's thick.” She looked away from him and to the fogagain, “Really thick. Is that what you mean?”

“No...it just sort of came out of nowhere. Didn't it?" 

“What do you mean? Doesn't fog usually come out of nowhere?”

Johnathan shook his head

“Here in the Sea of Grass, at least, you never get midday fogs like this, unless there's a sprinkle on a cool day.” He said, “But the last few days have been dry.”

“I see...” she said, looking between him and the fog with a blank expression on her face.

“Just...keep an eye out, is all I'm saying.” He sighed. “And stay near me. Don't want you getting lost or getting hurt.”

She nodded.

“Johnathan!”A baritone voice called from the east.

Arthur made his way through the herd, weaving deftly through the rams as he approached his cousin. He cast a sidelong glance to Aethel who had been standing off to the side. She looked down and shrank underneath his glare.

“What did you need, Arthur?” Johnathan asked as his cousin came to a stop near the center of the wandering herd.

“This fog,... Arthur began.

“We were just discussing it,” Johnathan said, “It's unusual isn't it?”

“So you've noticed.” Arthur said.

“Noticed?” Johnathan tilted his head, “No, it just fell at a weird time.”

“Ah...well I can see why you haven't noticed — you're in the middle of the herd, afterall. But she,” Arthur motioned towards Aethel, “should have noticed, at least.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, and why is that? Because I'm such a freak of nature?”
“No.” Arthur retorted, “Because you're short.” She looked more offended by that than anything else, “And you were at the edge of the herd.”

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” Johnathan asked, trying to interject himself between the two of them before their bickering blew up into something bigger. He coudn't rightfully send either of them away with the Day approaching as it was. 

“Dip your hand into the mist.” Arthur answered.

Johnathan obliged.

“Now pull it out.”

Once more, his cousin listened. As he did so small, translucent strands of silk clung between each of his fingers and shimmered white in the sun. His jaw hung slack and his eyes darted from his hand and to the rams nearest to him. Those same silk strands wrapped around their horns and clung to eachof their faces.

“What is...” As if to preempt his question the ground beneath them shook and the crook held tightly in his left hand began to burn within his grasp. Images of mist and shattered earth flooded into his mind.

“Arthur! Take the herd and get out of the mist. Protect them!” He called tohis cousin, “Aethel, come with me. Some of the rams are in danger!”

Before another word could be spoken he sprang forth, darting through the mass of rams and up the hill that he had spotted that morning, Aethel trailing after him.