Through the Goat’s Teeth, among the northeastern woods, a cloaked figure wanders. It’s so dark; a new moon hovers in the sky. They seem to be following something, but what is hard to say.

There! A second cloak moves among pines and quaking aspens. A third. And… is that a fourth? Specks of dusk among an erratic hallway of columns. Bubbles rising from the depths of the sea. Birds spooked by a sudden noise.

And then they are gone. But they are not. They are always watching, even when unseen. What could they be seeking?