"You listen, boy!"
A strong kick hit the nameless boy's gut. He keeled over and coughed up some blood.
"You need to eat some of this damned food. You're going out tomorrow, right? So, we need you strong!"
Another kick came, this time to his back. The boy endured but couldn't stop himself yelling out in pain.
Before him, a wooden bowl of wet grains and old meat was placed. He'd tried to eat it, but was so disgusted by its texture that he vomited all over his shared cell. The others inside had called for watchmen to sort the situation out.
Beating, in a way, counted as a resolution.
The boy, left to it after a few minutes of kicks and shouts, pulled the bowl close to him. He forced the gruel down his throat, the soppy texture of cold grains in water mixed with chewy, fatty meat in a truly horrid way.
The boy was all bones, with some small muscle on him from doing a few Lantern Runs before which had built up his stamina. But still, clearly a child who ate little.
He laid to sleep on the cold ground of the cell centre, watched with a mix of disdain, pity, and despair, by the other Lanterns around him. He didn't like these gazes on his back.
But, it didn't matter much. He'd be dead by this time tomorrow.
***
Welt set his shattered arm as best he could. It being broken in several places was not something that could be fixed by anyone besides a doctor. His blood loss was making him feel light headed, and he sat with his side against a tree within the fog.
Maybe the wounds hadn't been as bad as they'd seemed in the moment, though. Welt had thought his arm was broken in a lot of ways, but it seemed only snapped in about five. He had it in a sling made of his sleeve, and tore other pieces of his cloth robes to make bandages for his back and side.
The night air poked through his dirt-covered cloak and at his bare skin. It was uncomfortable, but the temperature was the last of his concerns now.
"Gahan!"
Welt called for the priest. He'd headed in about the same direction, but couldn't be heard nearby. Nor could Welt pick up the scent of alcohol - it was swallowed by the mist. In fact, everything around him had no smell, and his voice seemed to travel no distance at all before dissipating. Even the feeling of the tree against him was faint, as if it hardly even existed.
Welt looked to his working left arm - it looked as the monster had, with an empty void instead of any sort of texture upon it. Like a silhouette of his arm had replaced the real thing. This effect only seemed to creep up to beneath his elbow, stopping just about where his hand had reached within the bird's breast of feathers.
Still, it didn't feel all too strange - maybe a little faint in strength, but it worked nonetheless.
Welt stood himself up using the walking stick. His legs were, luckily, intact and full of strength, but he felt exhausted. Must be from not resting enough. He began to walk further into the mist, trying to use anything as a signpost - but even the patterns in the fog were moving and transient - a soup of swirls, clouds, and all manner of shapes.
While he couldn't project sound very well, it seemed the fog had not trouble doing so itself. A sound like faint wind hit Welt's ears as he walked. Coming from the immediate silence, he readied himself to face whatever could be approaching.
But nothing came.
After a minute of cautious waiting, Welt took a few steps forward and continued on his way. There was a unnerving timespan, it felt about a few seconds, where nothing could be felt around him. No trees could be sensed in the distance, and he felt completely lost. But, Welt followed as straight a line as he could, calling out to Gahan a few times along the way.
It wasn't a great idea to shout in the Fog, if you didn't want to attract whatever creatures might be hiding in it. Welt could only barely defend himself right now, so there was a good chance of him dying if attacked without warning. But this Fog felt different from what he'd understood.
Sure, it had been a long time since he'd been in a place like this, but a nostalgic sense, albeit a hated one, ran through his sixth sense. The same sense that gave him a cold shock from an Omen, Fog had always made him feel like throwing up - his stomach would move and shift as if something poisonous had fallen into it, his throat slickening as it prepared to be sick.
That feeling was nowhere within Welt now, not even an inkling of it.
Has the Fog already killed someone? But then, why is it not dissipating?
Welt looked up to the sky, at least he thought he was. He couldn't really see the ground anymore, the Fog had swallowed him below the waist. He could maybe feel the ground beneath his feet, but he wasn't even sure if he was standing - his connection to his legs felts faint.
The sound of wind battered against his ears - a hollow sound like a cave filling with a coming storm, intense and forceful. He could no longer hear his own voice as he shouted for Gahan. Was he shouting? Welt couldn't tell, feeling of his vocal chords was gone. Was he even breathing?
Welt's eyes rolled back into his head, as he felt all control of his face slip from him. The wind got louder and harsher - no feeling was felt on his skin, but a constant thrum of gusts that could topple houses reverberated against his ears and in what was left of his consciousness.
Welt continued to try and walk forwards.