it's already almost dawn;; winter

[fulzanin]

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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Where Feza had been born, there had commonly been a fog. Up high in the mountains of unknown territory, where the air was fitful and stirred and commonly couldn't decide what it wanted to be. A low bearing cloud, a raging storm, it never usually was pleasant. Fog, though, she'd seen before. Not in the swamp though. This was odd, the snow leopard could safely say. First the weird chatter in the wind that her sporadic mind had initially managed to drown out. The letters, not that Feza could read the writing present all that well. She'd somewhat gotten the message that was present, though. Feza took the time off from her festive planning to do as the letter instructed. Or, perhaps, she'd seen the other member of the group and decided that she would follow after him. "Oh, lookie, there's boxes," was the first words to come pouring from Feza's mouth. Not cardboard boxes, though. They were crafted out of wood, and any spiritual feeling for this strange event died when Feza noted that they were not made of cardboard. How disappointing. Slowly her tail swung behind her, coming up closer to her fellow Tangler. "This is a, a, uh, a very strange fog. And it's not the holidays yet so I, I, I have no idea why there's these boxes out here." Feza of course had to begin rambling, making a gesture with her paw to the boxes that were present. Confusion flickered across her face. This was unlike any fog that she had seen before, nor did she like the little prickles of being unnerved that flickered through her pelt.

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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY