You try to run. Your muscles burn, you heave for breath. They match your pace exactly, coming closer... and closer... and closer. You cast your gaze desperately from side to side. Isn't anyone around? You're scared. You're not a strong man, and these people all look like body-builders and criminals. No, now that they've come closer, you're not sure they look like men at all. Is that a tattoo, or is it... is it a tusk?

Then you stumble over a rock, fall, and scrape your hands. While you're rolling around and trying to get back to your feet, the men stop in a tight circle around you. They look down at you.

"What," you begin. Your voice is quavering.

"Take backups," the men say, as one. "Take backups, for you never know what may happen."

Then they disperse into mist.