A light in the distance glowed jerkily; a small fire, manmade. The mists swirled with the curiosity of a child, inching closer for a better peek. It was a camp, with an aged man sat by a kettle that was gently steaming. The mist crept closer, slithering across the frosty ground.

Long grey hair fluttered a little in the dead wind as small, wrinkled eyes watched the fire’s exotic dance; the amber light reflecting like molten liquid in the old man’s dark gaze. He appeared to be in deep thought.

The whispery mist flexed outward and up slightly, daringly risking a premature revelation of itself just to confirm who the man was. The old wizard remained oblivious to the silent sentient consciousness that hovered ever closer. The deep magenta robes were recognisable, the long slim sword with a golden leafed inlay at the handle guard, and a well-worn sturdy leather-wrapped handle also pertained to the man’s identity, but the item that confirmed it all was the small medallion that hung around the old man’s neck; it was a small, golden, filigree-decorated pendant that laid on a simple golden chain but held an air of intense pressure around it.

There was no doubt.

This was the target.

The mist swirled excitedly with a growing need to move. The bloodlust was suddenly unbearable as the thought of action coaxed the creature of mist into a rapid, mindless frenzy. The order to ‘kill’ was obeyed readily with an unrivalled passion.

The night exploded with sudden action as the smoke jumped violently from the grassy fog; a creature of shadow and mist with no will of its own but to appease the call for the blood and pain that beckoned it. The old man started and gasped in shock, the fear evident in his wizened eyes. The sight was too much.

The creature took a breath; the life of the night scattered, the light of the fire dimmed; 

...and it screamed!