Nathan turned forward again and walked.
The groaning continued, never stopping entirely, shifting in direction and distance in a way that suggested either multiple sources or a single one that moved without sound. Beneath it, threading through it like something woven into the fabric of the path itself, was another sound — subtler, rhythmic, almost like breathing. Too slow for a living thing, too deliberate for wind. It pulsed from the ground itself, or seemed to, a low vibration he felt more in his feet than heard with his ears.
The mist thickened further.
