Tendrils of mist crept along the ground, clawing their way slowly toward the decrepit house in the withering village. It snaked under the doors and through the cracks in the window frames.

In a dark room, a pretty young woman lay sound asleep. Her hand resting softly next to her face. The mist slid along her bed and towards her exposed neck where it stopped as if caressing it.

The night was still, the creatures silent. A piercing scream rippled through the air. But no one heard, or no one cared.

Or, perhaps, they were all just too scared.

Silence fell.

Footsteps padded swiftly from one room to the other – the room of the young woman. Nought as to what had transpired was found. The only disturbance in the bleak room; an empty straw pallet with the blankets tossed aside.

In the doorway stood a woman, a haggard and aged likeness of the beauty who lay there just moments before. She sobbed in to the muffled silence, for her daughter was gone and no one would seek to find her.