A gentle, isolated voice whispered from the darkness. "Where the grass brushes against thy toes, I await thee..." The soothing of its words faded as the lost soul awoke from his slumber. 

The sound of crashing ocean waves struck him before the tide itself, soaking his bare feet and retreating suddenly. Sticky, drying saliva surrounded his lips as they parted, taking in the air around him for the first time. Once again, the crashing sound of waves came from behind as he lay down on his front, his cheek to the dry sand that had yet to be moistened by the sea. The sudden cold touch of the ocean reached his knees now, forcing his eyes wide open as he gasped in shock. 

 He urged himself upward from the bed of sand from which he awoke: its grains sticking to his bare chest, legs, and torn loincloth. A third wave reached his buried hands as he hunched over the wet sand. The lost soul glanced wearily around his shoulder to see a frighteningly endless ocean. Where was he? And more importantly, who was he. Apart from the knowledge of how to use his slim, but muscular body, he was left with no memories at all. 

Realising his questions would not be answered where he now kneeled, the vulnerable, lost soul shakily brought himself to his feet as another wave gently rushed past him, washing the sand from in-between his toes. 

Each breath he took felt like the first, as if new life was entering his very being with every expanding motion of his chest. As he gazed up from his, almost, naked body, the lost soul stared agape at the expanse of beach that stretched out in both directions. The only noticeable difference in the landscape was miles inland. The horizon was green and full of foliage. The voice from the darkness echoed within his mind. 

"Where the grass brushes against thy toes, I await thee." 

Those gentle, guiding words brought a euphoric shiver to his bones: causing the hairs on his body to stand tall. She was there. She must be. Someone who knew something. Something to ease his anxiety and confusion. 

Thus, he began his march, to where he would feel the soft blades against his skin. 

With the mysterious coast far behind him and his path ahead consumed by an expansive, green forest, an opening of slightly parted trees became visible in the distance. Grass shoots lay motionless, sticking up sporadically through the sand, slowly covering a larger area as he approached the dense wood. He may have even found the sight pleasing, if he was not so eager to sate his need for clarity. Some sort of explanation for his existence. 

 Upon stepping foot into the forest, a sense of sudden dread gripped him. He instinctively spun around to find the expansive stretches of coast gone, seemingly swallowed by the dense forest of oak. Trickles of despair crept into his thoughts. There was no turning back now, he realised, though the prospect of meeting the guiding voice in the darkness was enough to steady his resolve. The only thing left to do was follow the path the forest had laid out for him. 

It did not take long for his sense of dread to return as he nervously trekked through the dense woodland: his growing anxiety beginning to play tricks on his mind. Shadows seemed to move between the treeline, and the oaks themselves rustled with no assistance of the wind. Amid the delusions, a lonely leaf fell gently from the canopy, coming to land on a sizeable rock a few yards from the lost soul's feet: causing him to pause. The leaf, despite its colour being the same as the others in the forest, was different. Where the leaves in the surrounding trees where full of veins, the fallen one had only two veins that through each other in a cross shape. 

The lost soul could not help but forget his previous anxiety as an innate fascination took over. He approached the rock on which the object of his desire lay and took to a knee, reaching out to touch it. Before he could lay a finger on the strange leaf, another fell to his right. Then a third to his left. Before long, many other similar leaves gently glided before him, slowly converging into a single mass. 

A body. 

A woman's body. Slim and young. As the last of the leaves fell into place, and the lost soul had returned to his feet, the leaves began to rapidly morph into skin. She smiled warmly: her eyes bright emeralds in seas of white. The leaves in which she had emerged from remained as naval length hair and was also left attached to her breasts and groin. 

The shaken soul's nerves were calmed by her soft, maternal voice that echoed in his mind; her lips did not part as she spoke. "Welcome, Child. Thou must be beyond confusion. But do not fear, for thy very purpose is to guide thee. And a guide thou shall need." The angelic woman slowly widened her arms out invitingly: her smile still warm. "Embrace me, Child." 

The lost soul could not help but smile giddily in return, a child-like fascination in his stare as he slowly rose from his knee and edged closer to her. As he approached, she gently took him by the shoulder and pulled him close. The smell of sweet, wild berries filled his nose. 

 The woman then removed a hand from the lost soul and whispered softly into his ear as he lay over her shoulder like a child. "Embrace me," she whispered. Her mouth moved this time. "For the answers you seek, lie in death." A hot, searing pain drove itself through his chest, forcing his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. As he retreated backwards, slowly gurgling his own blood, he saw the woman's hand gripping the handle of a steel sword, its blade driven straight through his heart. Before he had a chance to look up, she loosened her grip and slowly began morphing back into the cross-veined leaves, starting with her feet as they ascended high into the trees, her gentle smile and maternal gaze being the last to fade. 

The warm, metallic taste of blood dripped down the lost soul's chin and neck as he fell to his knees. He had no strength to raise his hands to the blade and fell to the ground on his side soon after. Not even a grunt or moan managed to escape him in his exhaustion. As he lay convulsing on the grass and dirt below, he could not help but feel an unconditional love and compassion for his killer: slowly drifting off into the darkness once more.