Frozen a warm mushroom rain. Rare rays of the sun seemed to say goodbye to the leaves and grass, caressing them at last with neat touches. A dense fog was already flowing light, milk haze between the mighty trees, trying to fill the entire district. A blonde boy of about fourteen was flying along a forest path, touching the ground a little. Behind him, picking up his skirt, his mother was in a hurry. They fled the last of their strength, but it was impossible to stop, because the killers were chasing them.