It was a wonderful night for a storm. Even though Declan Vesh hated his gifts, he couldn't help but enjoy the magic of the earth, it's primal rage battering itself against his cottage, filling him with an oddly contrasting peace. The sky was howling outside, trying to tear everything apart, and it calmed him like almost nothing else could. It was on nights like these that his powers seemed less of a burden. The magic was humming in his bones, begging to be used.

And the opportunity presented itself as there came a wild pounding on his door.

He'd bedded down for the night, had almost been asleep when he heard the woman's voice calling out for help. He thought it a dream at first, the voice of the mountains lamenting the storm. He'd heard odd things out in the woods before. But the pounding at his door erased any of his doubts. He drew his dagger from under his pillow and silently climbed out of bed, creeping towards the door on cat's feet. The pounding continued.

He undid his absurd number of locks and threw the door open, nearly causing the woman on the other side to fall into the cabin. He had his dagger held out towards her, but he knew as soon as he saw her that she would be no threat. She was on the small side, almost emaciated, with torn clothing and, as he glanced down, shoes so travel-worn that he was sure her feet were half-sprained and bloodied to hell. He sheathed his dagger and, without a word, gathered her shivering form in his arms. The door closed behind him without his help.

He dragged his bed closer to the fire and grabbed some of his dry clothes. "Put these on. I'll turn my back. When you've dressed, lie down and I'll take a look at you."