The fog was thick. Thick as a thick, thick bowl of fog soup. 

Everywhere young Nicky Rostov turned he saw the dense white of the horrible thick fog. It was like being inside a pie made entirely of milk. 

 "Hello!" he shouted "It's me Nicky Rostov is anyone there?" The thick, milky fog consumed his words like a pack of pigeons around an unlucky chip.

"I'm here to fight the French... I'm not scared" he shouted, a little too loudly.

Just then, through the thick horrible milky white fog, he saw an even whiter thing, white and bright as if a lighthouse were sailing across the battlefield.

As Nicky drew closer he saw it for what it was - a single, impeccably white glove, drifting down from the high cliff.

How did this glove get here? Where were the French? WHY was there so much fog?!

A short excerpt from:
War and Peace 2: There Will Be Fog
By WAPIN7's Steve

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