[Aradon Templar]: 240.Drabbles.The Traveller

Night descended upon the still lands. It draped over the countryside like a cloak. The black and blue of night blended with the vibrant green of the landscape and blotted out the dying rays of the golden sun. Clouds, brewing all day, darkened out even the faintest traces of moonlight. It was in this state that the traveller was forced to a stop.
Rythea took a seat on the soft grass on the side of the road, talking quietly to himself. "Confounded weather. If it had any shred of decency, it would have left me at least a bit of starlight to walk by. Yes, a dark night indeed. But not in the least silent, I can hear. It must be storming somewhere, and awfully heavily, too. I can hear the thunder from here."
He sat there for several hours, not even appearing to sleep, simply waiting out the blinding cloak of nightfall. The clouds broiled as if someone were using the sky as their stewpot, writhing every way, yet not shedding a drop near Rythea. Wind whipped around him, threatening a real storm, to soak him in a deluge from the clouds above. Yet it was a odd piece of weather, and eventually subsided dryly, though driving Rythea cold to the bone.
As the clouds began to move on, stars poked through the gaps of their twisted shapes, and soon the land was faintly illuminated by a soft glow. "Ah, moonbeams. Splendid. It must be time to continue my journey." Rythea stood again, though the night couldn't be halfways through. He was on a journey, and nearing his destination. A small hamlet nestled in the bountiful valleys and overshadowed by Ittar mountains was cut off from almost all communication with the world. Naturally it was in such a remote location that Rythea needed to go; it would be a poor adventure if everything were so easy, really. The village grew its own food, and found accessible water in abundance from the mountain. Since food and water were so easily available, much of the population were artisans of sorts.
Rythea wasn't exactly sure of what he would find when he reached his destination, however. He could only tell from the enemy's movements and what he could gather from careful espianage that it was of some importance, and thus set out from the borders far to the north. The trek was several weeks long on foot, and he could only hope to find that the hamlet was still in one piece by the time he arrived.