Dark woods, darker woods, as the twilight fades, slowly shadows, slower shadows nestle in the haze. softly falls, softer falls the last leaves of the trees, the sunset's yellow laughter echoes through the glistening eaves.
Brom: Now if you doubt this tale is so- I met that spook just a year ago. Now I didn't stop for a second look- But made for the bridge that spans the brook. For once you've crossed that bridge, my friend - The ghost is through His power ends