The three creatures.

He was welcomed by the smell of wet earth and cold air.

It was as if the mist were alive, moving steadily and gently against his face and hands, like breath. For a long time, he stood motionless. The boy's appearance was that of a five-year-old, and he was more aware and nervous.

A faint sound of running water could be heard nearby. A trickle rather than a rush. The kind that echoed inside a stone before touching open space. With his eyes still getting used to the grey light, he turned to face it.

The bag was several feet away. soiled, old canvas with a loose knot at the top. It smelled awful. The smell of something foul filled the boys' lungs. After a few moments of staring at it, he sat up. His joints had cracked. He had black hair all over his forehead. Only his mouth and his small bare hands and feet were visible, not his face.

He picked up the bag.

As he lifted it slightly, something inside moved. A human sound escaped, a faint, damp one. After taking a number of gags beforehand, he untied the tie and looked inside while holding his breath. 

A trio of babies? Their faces were pink and uneven, and they moved slowly and dreamily. Similarly covered in dry blood. They were covered with ripped shawls and remnants of old cloth, all of which were damp but sufficiently warm. A sound that resembled a sigh was made by one of them. He touched the child's cheek with the back of his hand. The child was calm and breathing steadily. He had to ensure that the things, as he perceived them, were alive and in good condition. That was sufficient. 

With his own quiet exhale, he closed the bag once more.

He had only followed the red trail and "appeared" elsewhere where the fog made it impossible to tell what direction anything was going; he had no idea where he was or how far he had walked. Younger children frequently played with the red stains that covered the rocks, grass, and so forth.

He wasn’t worried, exactly. Just tired.

He wasn’t sure where he was trying to go, only that he wasn’t there yet.

The boy rubbed his eyes. One was green, the other light brown. They caught light differently, which sometimes made people uncomfortable. There were no people here, and everyone vanished, so it didn't really matter! The boy sighed. He was too exhausted to be annoyed, but it had to be quickly moved on.

He slung the bag over his shoulder to check the weight. It's clear that he struggled and stumbled a few times before moving forward. The children were stirred once more by the movement; one cried softly and then fell silent. He started to walk while holding it steady with one hand.

Moss, shallow puddles, and tiny rocks partially buried in the mud were all signs of an uneven surface. He left a trail of water-filled half-prints behind him as he moved cautiously in bare feet. Other than the shifting bag and the sound of his footsteps, there was silence. Not a bird, no wind. After a minute or two of running in circles, he went into another uncharted area in the hopes of finding some help or a decent place to rest. 

He eventually located a stream. It cut through stone patches and was narrow and winding. He attempted to crouch beside it, but the babies were too heavy, so he continued to carry them. They would remain fastened to his head as he proceeded with his journey. Despite having a powerful grip for his age, he did not hurt any of them.

In the distance, the stream led to a deep, steady hum that was not quite thunder. Perhaps a waterfall. After adjusting the bag on his head, he started to move in its direction.

The fog behind him grew as thick as water.

In front of him, the air felt heavier, carrying the smell of stone and something older. The boy would sniff vigorously, smelling the trees that surrounded this broken structure.

He was unaware that there was another person waiting far ahead, where the stream turned into white spray.

Someone tall enough to see over the mist. 

The boy kept walking, waddling. Happy to have finally found someone else.