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Cold
Apr 11, 2011 14:18:33 GMT -5
Post by harrietrants on Apr 11, 2011 14:18:33 GMT -5
It was a cold, miserable night. Izaak huddled into the corner of the barn, trying his hardest to get some sleep and ignore the wind howling and rain slapping onto the roof. The smell of old, rotting hay filled the air, making the already musty air of the barn even harder to stand, and his recent wound- a deep long scar across his stomach- was putting him in a lot of pain, forcing sleep to stay only a blind hope. Izaak tightened his coat, pulling it further around himself. When the weather was this bad was the only time he found himself wishing he owned just one shirt. He tried to listen past the rain, trying to hear if anyone was approaching the barn, to no avail. He normally despised being alone for too long, but now was the only time in a long time that he had anything that had some worth- some medical supplies that he’d managed to steal from someone else, and in his bitter pessimistic mind, he was convinced that any visitors would only want to take them from him. And he felt too weak to fight anyone off, not that he was much of a fighter in the first place. The wind began to pick up and became louder, and Izaak fearfully wondered if the walls of the barn would last.
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