It was a cold bitter day. The october breeze rustled through the overhead trees, howling against the old concrete buildings of this city. It was dull, and grey, most of the place looking like a dilapidated city at this time of day, the sun barely visable over the misty horizon.

I was in the forest. The sharp branches twisting outward, each tree looked like a figure. My shaky pale hand grasped the hammer with an iron grip, dried blood upon each crevice of my fingernails, coating the end of the hammer. I staggered forward, lightly leaning against the trunk of a tree, wide eyes staring forward as I breathed heavily, shakily.