He squints into the fog, but even with enhanced eyes and ears there's nothing.

'That's the real barrier,' he observes. 'If we can shrink to this size and get wings, who knows what'll happen if we try to make it through there.'

Stepping back, enjoying the scent of the forest - he always wanted to live in or near one, ever since the first few days in France. There was something about it that was simple: living off the land and the soothing presence of so much green. Not so great in the Ardennes when the shelling made even the tree bark deadly as metal stripped it from the trees and sent the splinters flying. The War is far away, and behind him. He'd do well to remember that.