Chills in the air winters closing in.
I have to make it home somehow where do I begin,
I’m lost and afraid nothing to guide me.
Exposed to the elements with only these bare trees surrounding to hide me.
Where did I go wrong, or did I somehow take the wrong path. I hope I make it home before it becomes too dark.
These haunting sounds that fill this wooded lair are a constant reminder of something unholy disturbing the air,
One by one all my worst fears begin to unravel as I continue down these frore roads less travelled.