The night was crisp and cool. A harsh chill danced up Enoch's sleeve, and his teeth clinked together like glass.
Just two hours ago, he had slipped out of his bedroom, taken a loaf of bread and an apple, and climbed cautiously out of the window.
His mind was set. He had heard his father, who was at a meeting, once talk about hangings, and the fear they brought to people passing by. He walked silently up the path. After around half an hour of walking, he stopped at a pub to ask where the gallows were.
"About a mile north of the castle, follow the signposts,"
Enoch sighed. That was at least another hour of walking. He took out the apple, took a bite, and continued to walk.
After what seemed like forever, he stopped. His eyes followed the harsh wind up to the castle. There is stood, watching over the town. Enoch had never been to this castle, only seen it in the distance.
When he had been staring at the castle for about five minutes, he shifted his gaze to the path ahead of him. Slowly, he took a step forwards, before returning to his normal pace. Through the forest he went, mist covering to ground like a blanket, birds chirping nervously.
Then everything went silent. The mist seemed to clear before his eyes.
The gallows stood in a small clearing, clutching three bodies, swaying in the wind.
