Thunder rumbled and lightning crashed as rain poured down into the mountain pass, and threatened to was away the very earth. A lone figure hurried forth over broken trees and troublesome rocks. A gust of wind blew past and swept the dark hood from his face. It revealed the face of a boy, in about mid-teens, with startling white hair, and eyes that gradually changed colour; first light blue, then dark blue, then purple, then dark red, then red, all the way through to green. The boy quickly pulled the hood back over it tightly and holding it in place against the screaming wind. The very mountains themselves seemed to bend down to take a closer look and the boy, as he struggled against the lashing rain.
The pass soon ended and the ground began to slope gradually upwards. the boy continued on, navigating his way through the increasingly treacherous terrain. He was a young boy, only fifteen years of age, but his gait and gaze showed he already carried burden enough to last a man into his old age. His freezing legs trembling beneath him, the boy continued up the slope, though it grew steeper and steeper with every shaking step. Suddenly his legs gave way and he fell onto the mud slick ground with a sickening crunch.
Grabbing onto small shrubs and grass that grew up the slope to stop himself from sliding back down to the bottom. He began pulling himself along, scrabbling for more plants and grass to pull himself up the steep terrain.
After a long struggle, pulling himself the ever steepening mountain side, he came across a cave that seemed to be cut into the very side of the mountain.
Heaving himself in, the boy lay still on the floor for a moment, startled to find that he could almost not hear the storm any more. The boy decided that he was just very lucky, and that he should rest here for a while. Sitting up slowly, spots of light danced before his eyes before fading into nothing. Looking around himself, he saw that he could see the back wall of the cave from where he was sitting, it was slightly rounded and there was a scorched mark on the floor near to it. The cave was shaped a bit like a squashed sphere, its walls rough but circular and rounded, and its ceiling relatively flat but it rounded upwards a little.
Pulling himself over to one of the side walls and pulled himself up. He made to step on his right foot, but it crumpled and he found himself on the ground again. The boy pulled the boot from the offending foot, before slowly peeled off his saturated cloak and lay it out on the dry stone floor next to his boot. He then pulled his cloak off his shoulders and lay it out next to his sock to dry, water dribbling continuously from its woollen folds. Under his navy blue cloak, he was wearing baggy pants, of the same colour, that were bound from his knee down to his ankle in blue cloth. On his feet he wore brown leather boots and coarse grey socks. On his upper body, he wore a baggy shirt of similar style to his trousers that were bound from his elbow to his wrist and around his waist in the same type of blue cloth. His white hair seemed to shine silver in the moonlight, but it was wet, plastered to his head, like the fur on a drowned rat, and the mystical affect was lost. Over his shoulder there was slung a large leather bag, not unlike a sack with handles, it had no obvious seam, but was more of an organic shape.
The boy cursed his own stupidity at being capable of procuring such a troublesome wound, and scowled as he glanced down on it; it was an angry red and had already swollen so that it would not fit back into his boot.
"How silly is this." he muttered to himself. "Such an easily preventable wound." He thought for a moment before saying, "I wonder is anyone would notice if i used a bit of," he cleared his throat, "luck. To help it heal faster." His ankle was twisted and swollen. Clenching his hands together he warmed his hands by blowing onto then. Looking back down at his continuously swelling ankle, the boy prodded it gingerly. He snatched back his hand rapidly as sharp and slicing pain ran swiftly through his body. Gritting his teeth, the boy felt around to see if any bones were broken, his face pulled in a pained grimace as his ankle twitched and shivered in pain. "No." he murmured gratefully. "No need for any extra luck today."
Upon finding nothing broken, to his intense relief, and now in a cold sweat, he shuffled over to the back wall of the cave where a pile of split wood and kindling had been left by its last inhabitant. He picked up several stout sticks from the pile and unwound some of his leg bindings, down near his ankles, on his legs. He then lay the sticks parallel to his ankle, then rewound the bandages around them, creating a splint. The boy smiled gratefully for the unexpected find, he felt warm and safe in this little isolated cave, almost like a baby duckling huddled under its mothers wings. Setting up a small fire, he stoked it until it gave off enough warmth. Shuffling over to lay his wet clothes on the ground next to the fire, the boy was asleep long before they dried.
