The road ahead is full of fog.
The wind is heavy, merciless to people like us; people going on a journey.
Bigger chance to run off course and into the wild.
Visibility is low, too.
It's getting harder to see what resides in front of us.
From what I know, for the fog to clear, the temperature has to be warmer.
But I don't want warm.
I want fire.
—From me, who got you trapped in this fog with me
