Leaning slightly over the other, Eli watched as dark eyes flew open. The man blinked up at him and went a few shades lighter, as if he'd seen a ghost. Then again, Eli supposed he actually might be a ghost. All things considered. He quickly leaned away, knees digging into the dirt as the other moved to sit up, panic on his face. Eli watched his eyes dart around the campfire, his own gaze suddenly roaming across two more figures he hadn't noticed before, too busy focused on the only thing he recognized in this place. The only other person he'd seen in that nightmarish arena.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffa64d">"Was... Did that really happen?" </span><br/><br/>Oh. Eli had really been hoping the other could answer that question in turn. Even his voice was nice, though, he noted, but this was not the place to linger on such thoughts. He'd just been hunted down like an animal and stabbed to death by something he had no words for. After drifting in a fog filled with dark whispers and agonized voices, he needed answers to ground himself, head racing and grasping for any sense of reality or normalcy in this place.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff">"I . . . was hoping you could tell me that."</span>His barely recognized the growl that left him as his own voice.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff"><i>All the screaming</i>, </span>he reminded himself. He cleared his throat and tried again.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff">"Actually, I was praying you'd have no idea what I was talking about so I could convince myself it was just a nightmare."</span>So this man remembered as well, which meant it hadn't all been a horrible hyper-realistic nightmare after all.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff"> "Either that or we're both crazy,"</span>he forced a grin, still unable to look away from the face before him in spite of the circumstances.<br/><br/>"<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#808080">A nightmare, yah. But that don't make it any less real." </span>An older man donning a white beard sat on the log behind them, watching their exchange in amusement as he put out the remnants of his cigarette with calloused fingers. Eli noticed that he'd slipped the last bit of it back into his coat as if it were precious rather than tossing it aside.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#808080">"An yeh're not crazy. We all think that when we first enter the fog." </span><br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff">"The fog?" </span>He couldn't stop himself from interrupting, desperate to piece this puzzle together.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff">"The last thing I remember is falling asleep in my own bed, Pal. There was no fog."</span><br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#808080">"Yeh, some o' yahs get here like that. Most, actually. Yeh're the only one who'll know why yah were chosen, o course. The fog is what we call the mist what takes us into the trial come sundown. It brings us back ter the fire no matter if we live or die." </span>He chuckled knowingly.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#808080">"Believe me, you'll learn the routine of things 'round here soon enough. Monotonous, it is. Granted . . . this is different for us seasoned survivors too. Usually the fog only brings in one at a time. Not two o' yah."</span><br/><br/>Eli turned back to the other, brow knitted.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff">"You're new here too, then."</span>His mind tried to process this new information, but he still didn't quite understand. Fog. Trial.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#0080ff">"The trial. Do you mean . . . "</span>That hellish place.