Night began to descend upon a forest. The sound of a fearful soul, running through the brush could be faintly heard. His thin, youthful face showed signs of insomnia, his eyes tired but full of horror. All he could do was run. He held a tattered tome close, shielding it. He could barely see as he ran, and soon he thought it would be a good time to stop for the night. He sat down on a thick tree trunk, and began to relax, catching his breath...