It drifted in slowly at first, this first fog of the season. Rising from the water of the harbor, slipping silently over the boats in their moorings, across the docks, up the roads into the tiny town.

It formed halos around the few streetlights that were still functional, its tendrils reaching into the shadows they cast.

There was no sound but for that of the water lapping at boats in the harbor and a barking dog in the far distance.

Alone, she walked, down the sloped main street of the deserted town toward the harbor. She was resolute, determined. The dog trotted silently at her side.

But it didn’t feel right. Her stride slowed almost imperceptibly as she braced for something she could not yet see.

The dog cut out to her right, fading into the shadows, nearly invisible now in the dark and fog. She scanned the street, but his was the only movement she saw.