The mists that swirl within the highlands of Scotland give a different feeling to each person who sees them. Some find them relaxing and calming, as well as a tie to the past because the mists have been in these valleys longer than man can remember. To some, they were frightening, a reminder of ghosts and demons and those things that go bump in the night. To Breadon, they were what he was now made of; the curse of a witch had transferred him into Moisture until he performed a selfless deed. But since he could only speak, or form a hand, most of the time, he just scared people and floated with the wind and rain, waiting for his chance, waiting centuries for Bethlyn.