In a deserted, smoky forest, an aging wayfarer attempts to live off the land despite his physical limitations. Obstinate and resourceful, he has grown accustomed to fishing and camping with only one arm. But after a storm hits and he must take cover under his hastily assembled tent, he wakes to find himself not under his canvas, but inexplicably on the bottom of a freshly dug grave, a few feet away from camp. How does a sane man know when he is falling prey to supernatural forces, when an insane man may as easily fall prey to those which are natural?