The Deepening Fog Pt.3

The trees had now turned into shadows, black silhouettes painted onto my eyes, the thin cold of them seeming more pressing than those at my back. I could feel their heat no more and had not heard much of their clumsy footsteps for one hundred steps or more in the past. I could only imagine that they had called things off or replotted their attack, the way in the wake of my heels too treacherous a hill to climb for flat footed oafs. Either way, the dark had now taken full hold, a coal soaked blanket thrown clean over my head, the tendrils and lose threads tickling my face, reminding me of my confused presence. It was only now, as my flight drew back a little and the lightening through my veins subsided some that I became aware of the pain in my feet, the shoes I was wearing at least three sizes too big for me. I cast them off and instantly felt the relief of the icy dead leaves on the soles of my bare feet, a frigid comfort most welcome for now. It was this spec of time too that I took to fathom at why I was wearing men’s clothes. I had no recollection of the near time before I had awoken under these trees, no clue or cue spotlighted this fragment in my mind. Why was I wearing the clothes of the man I had just killed?