241.3

Through the mist, you spot a figure weaving between the trees. Is there somebody else up here? How did he get here?

You follow the figure along the crystalline stream that flows through the woods, finally getting close enough to call out to him. He glances toward you, but there is no response. Perhaps it's just the mist, but he seems almost ethereal, like a figment of your imagination. As you approach, you realize the truth: it's not a living man, but the spirit of one. Somebody who used to live here, perhaps?

Clear the spirit with  to observe it.