The soft, persistent rain was coating the entire world in a layer of cold dew. Vilon stood absolutely still amidst the dense branches of a wild briar bush, the freezing water slowly soaking through his rough woolen cloak and tracing icy lines down against his bare skin.
Squat and still, like a stone, he commanded himself, his teeth clamped tight to keep them from chattering. Do not move. Be a stone.
He told himself to ignore the bitter chill; there was a warm campfire waiting for him back at the camp. This would pass. Everything eventually passed.The pain and perhaps even the guilt.
