One drop... Two... Ten... all of them came barreling down on Histoire's body, soaking her hair along with the gown she had on. Her body was past the point of shivering uncontrollably and jolted every few seconds. This would later prove to be the worst winter of her life.
She never reached disproportionately, or considered a sneeze or a shiver as anything to be overly concerned about, but on this day her head ached so terribly that she feared a fever would soon be the least of her worries. The door was right behind her, her path not impeded by anything but thin air that she could effortlessly push through. The warm shelter and protection of walls and a roof, all waiting and beckoning for her return.