Anaxa got used to living in a forest. Ever since he was exiled from the city for his blasphemy, he was left to fend for himself. Pushed away by society. He had a small shack that he slept in, managed to make a small garden that could somehow feed him, learned all routes around the forest, learned how to survive in general. He knew what herbs do what, how to heal himself and treat his sicknesses, how to survive winters and get some amount of meat. His clothes were tattered, and made from rags found in trash, sewn together. He lived day by day, solely focusing on surviving. He was often desperate but he had human pride, human dignity. He was still a tad arrogant.

He survived a lot of things in the forest. But he heard some tourists talking once. Tourists were his only source of information around here. Since going up the hill to get to a village was close to impossible with how weak he was, he had to trust them. They said that huge storms were approaching. This place would turn into a dangerous, muddy hole. Anaxa wouldn't survive. He was smart enough to know it. He already packed whatever he could. He secured important things- like his old dromas doll, important items, books and document, in a plastic bag. He put food and rest of them into another bag. He put on his shoes that were half broken, and wandered up the hill. But if course something bad happened. It started raining heavily. Anaxa knew he wouldn't make it. That's when he spotted a small house. It was on a hill, so it was safe. It was his only choice. He could introduce himself with another name. Ask for shelter for the night. Not eat any food or use anything from their house so the owner doesn't demand any payment. Leave early in the morning. Thats what he did. He put his not important bags in a safe place. Stuffing his pockets with some nuts and berries. He took his bag with important things and knocked on the door

—Excuse me. I apologize for the intrusion, but would it be possible for me to spend a night here?