The forest was not unaccustomed to storms, but this one was remarkable. It seemed to Dren that the storms in Lockewood Forest were getting worse lately. From where he sat he could see almost nothing but the driving snow through the mouth of the little cave. He had been out hunting when the storm seemed to fall upon the forest all at once, without warning. The rabbit he had been tracking had led him directly to the cave, which had been formed at the bend of a now dry creek. As Dren had made his way into the cave, the rabbit had scurried up in to the knot of tree roots and soil that made the roof of the cave and disappeared.
He never actually captured anything, he didn't even have much of a weapon. There was almost no chance of his home-made bow being strong enough to drive an arrow into an animal's hide, and his arrows didn't fly straight enough to aim. He mostly liked following the animals, finding out how close he could get to them before they trotted away. It was a good way to escape the pressures of the constant schooling, training, and chores which seemed to occupy fully his real life. He was 15 years old, in the first year of his apprenticeship as a bookkeeper. Dren enjoyed his training, partly because of the break in routine from school. Instead of going to 7 classes a day in subjects he didn't always find meaningful with other children who, would rather be somewhere else, he could now spend at least half of his days doing something he found interesting around people who seemed to like the things they were doing. The downside was that he had less time to himself. As a simple school student, he had had a couple more hours each day to explore the forest. Now that his outings were more rare, and often cut short, there were even more important to him. The forest was his best friend and had heard all his deepest secrets, dreams, and fears.
He had been able to come hunting today because it was a festival day and the schools and businesses were closed. There was to be a parade, and Dren wondered how the festivities were faring in the unexpected early winter storm. He looked out into the whiteness, trying to decide if the storm was lifting. He thought he could see some trees across the riverbed, and the wind seemed to be calming down. He thought he might start back to town when he saw a somebody moving through the whiteness. The gray figure was walking with the wind at its back, wearing what seemed to be a long, hooded cloak. Dren began to shuffle his way to the mouth of the cave, concerned that one of the townsfolk was lost in the white-out. Dren knew the woods very well, and was deeper than he believed most people ventured unless hunting or gathering wood. As he stepped out of the cave, he marveled that the wind and snow had stopped nearly as suddenly as it had began, and the sun was already pressing its way through the lifting clouds. Dren looked around for the figure but saw no one in any direction. He looked on the ground and saw no tracks in the snow except for his own behind him, leading from the cave. He climbed up the river bank and looked around again, but saw only fresh snow, trees, and some bits of bushes the wind must have blown around. Shrugging his shoulders, Dren turned down the hill had began the walk home.
