Chandea, Year of Severus, 16, I.R., the 1st day of Winter, Broken Springs
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Snow fell from the sky, like cotton floating from the heavens landing into the barren earth. Adaloun stared blankly at the sky, his mind was away from everything else happening around him. The cold breeze blew but he never bothered to cover himself with any extra protective clothing. He sat in front of his dilapidated house that was given to him by the generous alderman who found him walking endlessly on the forest one day.
His skin prickled as the cold; north wind blew once again. He was never bothered by the cold. He sat on his porch, bare chested, drinking his sour wine, and drowning his sorrows. People went pass by him holding thick wools, covering their bodies.