The Wanderer

The trees of the forest swayed wickedly, almost defiantly against the wind. When the wind blew more harshly for a time, they would respond, and soon the air would be thick with the sound of shifting and rustling of leaves. When it abated, they would settle, like old warriors finally put to rest.

The sky, matching the ferocity of the wind, burned in anger. It was close to defeat, it seemed, for the horizon just above the trees was a bloody orange smear. The tops of the trees were yet bathed in a weak orange glow, revealing for once the yellows, reds, and purples of their dying leaves, but as black clouds encroached and smothered the sunlight, color retreated and vanished, replaced by browns, blacks, and greys.

The rain began to fall. It was hesitant initially, but as the sunlight waned and the wind blew stronger, the rain became thick and heavy, and the ground it struck became mush, and the leaves of the trees shook the water to create a thick spray all in the air of the forest, and the rain muddled all. Where before there had been trees, wind, and sky, now there was rain, and now rain was all that could be seen.

A wanderer struggled against the rain. When all else had submitted finally to the will of the storm, he defied and moved onward. The mud caught his every step, dragging his worn black boots down, and the trees whipped leaf and raindrop alike at him, which he weathered by holding the end of a ragged yellow cloak--almost grey, when bathed in the dull colors of the tempest--in his hand to guard his face. He moved forward, somehow both weak and resolute all at once.

For a long while he struggled through the rain. The storm never faltered, and the trees never quieted their lashings and rustlings, and the forest never ended. First through the mud and thick grasses of a valley he walked, then over a crag of stone which outstood the trees, then across a flooded creek, transformed into a torrent by the storm.

With the creek passed by a few paces, the weights on the wanderer suddenly dragged him down in a peculiar manner, as if he had just realized their toll. The deluge of sound and motion and light was lost on him, and he sank slowly to his knees, collapsed in a heap on the forest floor, and submitted to the will of the storm.