It was a gloomy day in the village of Bos. The sky had turned grey. It was inevitable that it would soon rain.
The villagers of Bos had brought their cows in from the fields. They hid indoors and locked themselves out of harms way. The dirt streets lay deserted.
Except for one boy.
He was short for fourteen. He wore a black cloak that was obviously too big for him. His ruddy brown hair fell over his eyes, as if soaked. In fact, you couldn't even see his eyes. A frown was pasted on his pale features; a look of neutrality for the boy.
He stood in the streets, staring at nothing in particular as the rain began to drop. Hesitantly at first, but gaining in speed and ferocity as thunder rumbled ominously in the not-so-far-off distance.
This did nothing to bother the pale boy in the black cloak. He stood, lifting his head slowly to watch the dark clouds in the distance pull across the sky until directly overhead. And slowly he dropped his gaze back into the distance.
In the village of Bos, not a sound was made apart from the patter of rain, rolling of thunder, and the occasional gust of howling wind.
Not a soul stirred.
Not a soul was seen.
All except the pale boy in the over-sized black cloak.