Though the rest of the face was now appearing very solid, the mist which it formed no longer moved as far as she could see.

The mists were moving back to the corners of her mind.

The mist moved to his left, then to his right.

Only the mist was moving; it was higher now.

By the next morning they had come to a wide, shallow valley and a small lake on which a gray mist moved.

A mist was moving on the water, swirling and rising.

As the mist moved in the wind, it changed into three beautiful women.

Heavy mist moved among the trees that stood in regiments marching up from the river.

They all seemed to sense the moment, as the mist finally moved on a freshening breeze.

Swirling gray mists moved in it for a moment, and then all was white wool.