Murk

Morning came, but the sky was still riddled with gloomy clouds, a wispy wind had gently brought forth a dense fog. A frail man emerged from his hallowed sanctuary, noticing that the tree was probably a better place to be. Since he was lacking visibility in the marsh, and the forbiddingly cold murky water was up to his knees. Unconcerned with his well-being; the frail man fretted not, and decided to carry on aimlessly.