Carack

Ch1 p5

Gerent found his trainers soon became water logged. He squelched on through the downpour. Puddles and little rivers formed in the mud of the lane and water ran everywhere. His T-shirt stuck to him, his jeans were wet through and began to cling to his legs. It felt as if some creature was trying to stop him making any movement or getting anywhere at all. He folded his arms across his chest and put his head down. Miserable with tiredness, aching shivering with cold and wet he plodded on, longing for the rain to stop or for some form of shelter to appear. The darkness intensified and the thunder continued to roll around, though it did not peal as loud as the first clap. The lightening was still darted about as bright as the first flash. Each bolt reflected in the puddles at his feet, so much so that even looking at the ground as he walked Gerent could still see the brilliance of the lightening and his eyes had to re-adjust to the dark again after each flash.

Gerent struggled for hours along in this fashion. His head hung further down he trudged with his back hunched over. The water poured off his scalp and ran down his back and chest. Gerent was getting to the stage where he found it hard to put one foot in front of the other in the numbing darkness. He did not even notice when he began passing close alongside the front of a building. He was grabbed by the shoulder and yanked in through the open door, out of the cold and wet and into dryness and warmth.