A twig crunched under his bare foot, and part of it pierced his flesh, but he didn't feel it. A steady stream of blood started to flow from the cut, leaving the last of his trails on this earth.
Darkness fell like a veil across the lush land in which he walked, and branches seemed to be reaching out their hands towards him as if he was their prey. The leaves above his head rustled in the wind, as if they were whispering to each other. He kept on moving, as if in a trance.
Then everything went silent, the squirrels all hid in the hollows of the trees and there wasn't a single owl hooting. That's when death took the man for his own.