heavy gray skies outside the window, rain sputtering against the roof, wet coat flung dripping across the tiled floor, boots askew and shedding puddles, chattering teeth, stocking feet tucked around a chair rung, faded quilts around their shoulders and a teakettle whistling on the stove
a smell of smoke on the stiff wind, ash dancing like tiny flies in the air, the uneven light of distant flames in the dusk, hoarse breaths and hacking coughs, shuddering away from helping hands, cold water dripping out over their trembling lips and making runnels down their dirty shirt-front
the pale strange green of potions in dull glass vials, sheathed weapons tossed aside on the ground, old cloth splitting at a knife-point for makeshift bandages, gold afternoon sun brilliant in wincing sensitive eyes, the prickle of dry grass against skin
two candles burning on a table cluttered with medicines, a half-full basin of water with a cloth draped over the rim, curtains fluttering in the hint of the night wind, whispered words exchanged just out of hearing, blankets disarranged by restless thrashing trailing on the floorboards
circles of light on dirty pavement beneath each streetlamp, crickets in the shadowy bushes singing a relentless chorus, dark splashes of blood on concrete, unsteady steps and hitched breathing and a pinched face, eyes widening in sudden exhausted delight at a familiar figure hurrying towards them
