The mist was spawling through the fields, the cold feeling of death spreading everywhere. Dozens of dead bugs and flies pilled on the ground. The sick-looking old man stood, amidst the mist, unmovingly, their plain clothes waving.
The mist kept mixing with the black clouds of smoke filling the sky, the heat and the cold pushing against each other, causing the air to whirl. The dragon emitting clouds of smoke was quietly flapping his wings, his two reptilian eyes locked upon the old man, looking into his dead empty, looking eyes. They lacked any glitter or spark of life, looking like the eyes of a corpse.
No one spoke. Everyone just quietly stared the each other.
Vesuvius almost started to feel nervous, his eyes glued on the man's walking stick, expecting it to transform into a terrifying scythe at a moment of notice.
