The village of Blackpine sat nestled in the embrace of the dense forest, its cottages carved from ancient trees, and its streets little more than well-worn dirt paths. The morning sun hung low, casting a warm golden glow over the mossy rooftops, while the smell of wood smoke curled from chimneys. In the air, the scent of pine sap mixed with the earthiness of damp soil, a familiar perfume to the villagers who called this place home. The fog slinked quietly into the town.

Holly, the baker, stood behind the counter of her small shop, kneading dough with strong, practiced hands. Her flour-dusted apron fluttered slightly as the door swung open, bringing in a gust of cool air. Oakley, the town’s carpenter, stepped in, his thick coat damp from the morning dew. His eyes drifted to the loaves cooling on the rack.

"Morning, Holly," Oakley said, brushing the damp from his sleeves. "Smells good in here."

She smiled, her whiskers twitching. "You're in luck. Just pulled these out." She nodded toward the counter, where a few rounds of bread lay, their crusts golden and split just right. The fog pressed against the glass of the shop windows. The dough rose beneath her hands, smooth and firm.

"I’ll take two," Oakley said, his voice casual, though there was a slight edge to it, as if the morning had followed him inside, unwelcome. "Did you hear about the new project?"

Holly’s ears perked. "I heard you’re putting in a new bridge over by the mill. That true?"

"Aye," he nodded, his eyes narrowing with focus. "Been meaning to replace it for a while now. Wood's rotted through. Could be dangerous come winter."

The fog curled around the front door like fingers seeking entry. Holly wiped her hands on her apron, reaching for the bread. "That’ll be three coins," she said. Oakley fumbled in his coat for the coins, his fingers trembling slightly form the brisk morning air. The clink of metal against the counter echoed briefly in the small shop.

The fog tapped against the window, like fingernails drumming impatiently.

"Thank you," Holly murmured, tucking the coins away before wrapping the bread in parchment. The scent of fresh rosemary wafted through the air. "When do you start on the bridge?"

"Tomorrow, if the weather holds," Oakley said. "Just need to gather a few more planks."

Holly nodded, her expression softening. "You’ll manage it," she said, her voice reassuring. "You always do."

Outside, the fog rolled along the edges of the street, swallowing the road whole.

At that moment, the door creaked open again, and in shuffled Agnes, the town’s herbalist, with her basket brimming with dried herbs. The sharp tang of lavender and sage filled the shop as she entered. She glanced around, her sharp eyes settling on Oakley before turning to Holly.

"Busy morning?" Agnes asked, her voice gravelly but warm. She set her basket down on the counter, the herbs rustling as they settled.

"Just a bit," Holly replied, handing Oakley his wrapped bread. "How’s the apothecary?"

"Quiet," Agnes said, pulling out a small pouch of coins. The fog scraped against the roof, a low sound like something dragging across slate. "Though I’m running low on rosemary. Do you have any?"

"I've got some left in the back," Holly said, slipping through the door behind her. The fog licked at the edges of the bakery’s shutters. The scent of cinnamon and clove wafted from a fresh batch of scones cooling on the counter.

Oakley shifted his weight from foot to foot, glancing at Agnes. "Planning to make that salve you mentioned?"

Agnes nodded, her ears twitching. "For the cough that’s been going around. I think the change in the weather is getting to folk."

The fog whispered through the crack beneath the door, curling along the floorboards. Holly returned with a bundle of rosemary, its leaves bright green against the dark wood of the counter.

"Here you go," Holly said, handing it over to Agnes, the warmth of the shop enveloping them like a cocoon against the crisp air outside.

Agnes smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Perfect, thank you." The smell of rosemary lingered as Agnes tucked the herbs into her basket.

"I’d best be going," Oakley said suddenly, his voice tight. "Got a lot to prep for tomorrow." He nodded to them both before stepping out into the street. The fog wrapped tightly around him. Holly packed up more herbs for Agnes while they continued chatting, the quiet shuffle of their movements the only sound in the bakery.

Outside, the fog smothered the village in silence, clawing at the doors, whispering through the trees. Inside, life went on as usual, though the air felt just a touch heavier.