Disclaimer: see first drabble.
Fog clings to them. They are already far enough from grace, damned as they are to be between life and death, neither man nor corpse; it seems a worse injury that so often they should be denied the sunlight as well; and a bitterer injustice still that the light they are given in abundance, the pale moonlight, is the one they hate most. When the moon's white shine is uncovered and she in turn exposes them to their punishment, they wish most wretchedly for the fog's stifling cover,
for it is a protection, that grants them their disguise of flesh.