SECRETS

Nelanian returned to the shanty where he had been resting. His head throbbed with a headache, and he couldn't concentrate on anything for long. It hurt him in waves, inducing light drowsiness before assaulting him with a violent anguish that forced him fall out of his chair. He reached for a drink he'd made himself and drank two hefty tastes of it. He felt strong enough to walk again after a few moments of resting his mass on the chair, so he got to his feet and walked toward the shack's entrance.

It was an aging house that could have easily been blown down by a strong enough breeze, termites had eaten through most of the walls, and it didn't even have a door. Nelanian had tied a sack he found near a farm, cut it, patched it together to form a curtain, and hung it over the door frame as his door. When he stepped outdoors, he spotted black clouds moving in from the south. A storm was approaching, and he needed to finish whatever he was working on before the rain caught him out