Left in the Rain

You squat on your hands and knees in the center of a grey, leaf-caked cobbled road. You stare at your hands, gloved in thick brown leather, as they lie half submerged in a puddle. Rain splashes all around you; your black fur cloak, now soaked and heavy rests at your side, seeming to want to drag you down with it. You look up at the road ahead, grey fog created by the rain blocks any far view and the green and grey trees that line the road block any sense of direction. The sky is black and soaked with an almost apparent sadness. Rain collects in the grooves between the cobbles, and flows out into the muddy rut on the side of the road. You stand with a groan, the sword on your hip scrapes against the cobbles as you do. You trudge forward, tripping yourself up as you walk. A flow of wind flashes down through the trees, causing many soaked, amber leaves to fall upon and around you. You keep moving forward coming upon your destination finally. You throw yourself upon the large oaken gate, but it does not budge. You rap your knuckles against the wood with a deep resounding thump, but there is no reply. You sigh and use the wooden gate to steady yourself as you slump down against the cold stone archway. Your head droops down and you look into your lap. You bring yourself to look skyward at the dark, brooding clouds and can tell it will be dark soon. You can only hope the rain lets up soon as your vision drifts into blackness.