It was a dark and stormy night. An unnatural haze lingered over the door . In his bed, he shivered. For a summer night, the air was cold and the sky was black. It was almost as if something evil lurked out there in the shadows.
he rolled over, clutching his pillow, and tried to fall back asleep. But a worry nagged in the back of his mind. Something was not right. No matter how he tried, some ghostly force prevented him from sleeping. It made him uneasy. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed, pulled on his shirt, and poured himself a cup of water from the pitcher on his nightstand. Quietly, he left his room.
The halls were silent as he walked in the dark. He did not know where he was going, or why, but his body seemed to move on its own accord. He was being drawn by an unseen power. Past his father's bedroom, past the dining hall, past the kitchen, and out onto the terrace. With the moon hidden behind thick clouds, it was nearly impossible to see in the inky black night. But something lying on the path into the woods made him gasp in shock. A body!
'a body!' dean shouted. He leapt over the terrace railing and onto the ground below, running toward the fallen form as fast as he could. Tree branches scratched at his skin and pulled at his clothes, but he paid them no mind. Heart pounding, he fell to his knees on the pathway and placed a gentle hand on the figure's chest.
Now that he was closer, he could see that this was a boy, who appeared to be no more than 17 years old. But he was in dire need of help. His clothes were torn and bloody, and his hair was matted with sweat. He needed the attention of a healer, immediately. Without a second thought, dean picked up the wounded boy and, cradling him in his arms, carried him inside to seek the help that was so desperately needed.
