Shades of midst.

Four distant men approach. Shrouded in gray. They carry distinctive items. One wears a beard down to his chest. They are running, cutting across a field long abandoned. You stand alone. But you see them. Excitedly you cry out, hoping to get their attention. Silence. The men pass on, through you - around you.
You are abandoned, the four gray men enveloped by a shroud of midst.

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