No rain, no flowers

Chapter One | The Path

After a while of following the rock trail (or at least what he assumed to be a trail) , it became a cobblestone pathway. And so he felt even more confident to walk along it. Now that he'd been out of the forest for sometime and had his wits about him, he realised just how cold he really was; his forearms were pink and every limb felt numb. He tried to hurry along the path, hoping to find a village, home, or some kind of shelter at it's end. Then- it started to rain. It was just a mist at first, but soon it turned into a harsh rainstorm and large drops of freezing water soon bombarded him. He felt cold and helpless. His run turned into a jog, which turned into a walk, which then became a trudge. With difficulty, he slowly picked up each foot and made his way up a small hill. His feet felt as if they were made of lead or steel and weighed tons. He looked to the sky (which is a very foolish thing to do when it's raining) and (of course) rain got in his eyes, making him all the more miserable. After some time, he made it to the top of the hill. Awaiting him there was a cobblestone wall and a wooden gate. He opened the gate, walked into the enclosure, and closed the gate behind him. Before him was just as he'd hoped; not a village (unfortunately) but not just a shelter either; it was a house. It looked to be made of stone, wood, and brick. The windows varied; some were rectangular, others were round. The door was made of a dark oak and there was smoke billowing out of the chimney. It looked warm. He trudged up to the house, took a deep breath (he was nervous and quite frankly; frightened. Not just from the day's events but; who lived here? What were they like? Would they let him stay? Where else would he go if they wouldn't let him stay there?) and knocked on the door.