The mist in the lowlands was always there, thin but annoying, covering everything like a dull blanket. It hovered just above the ground, drifting around his ankles while he walked. The stone beneath his boots was cracked and uneven, pieces of old ruins scattered everywhere as if someone had smashed a whole city and left it to rot.
Tall grass pushed in from both sides of the path, wet with morning dew. It brushed against his legs with every step. Sometimes it moved on its own, something small or not-so-small rushing through it before going silent again. The animals down here didn't hide well; you could always hear them before you saw them.
