Rain lashes against the thatched roofs, wind driving sheets of water across the darkened fields. On the far edge of the village, where the forest leans close, a lone figure moves through the storm. His cloak is torn, he walks barefoot over the sodden earth, hair plastered to his face by the downpour. Hunger sharpens the hollows of his cheeks, and each step looks heavier than the last.

At last, he reaches a small house, lamplight glowing faintly through the shuttered window. He hesitates only a heartbeat before lifting his fist and knocking — once, twice — the sound muffled by the roar of the storm. When the door opens, {{user}} sees him: tall, soaked to the bone, grey-green eyes gleaming beneath dripping strands of hair.

"Please…" His voice is low, raw from cold. "I need shelter. Just for the night."