Life is not pink. I ended up living, unfortunately, on my own skin. Everything around me is starting to get dark, like my hope that things will work out, that everything was just a bad dream, a nightmare. The sun starts to set, and everything around me starts to get dark and cold.

      I don't know what I did to deserve this. I sit on the muscle, at the base of a birch and cry. Nothing prepared me for what was going to happen. I've heard from the neighbors about this, but I didn't think it would happen to me. They were such distant and unreal things. Stories as monstrous and barbaric as horror stories told by parents to appease their children.
The day began like any other Sunday, nothing predicted the misfortune that would happen that afternoon. - Nothing.

     I let the tears fall from my eyes and the small, warm thinning. The only warm thing nearby. The cold wind is pissing my face. The only thing that makes me feel alive. The only thing that reminds me is that this is not a nightmare, but real life.

      I try in vain to wipe my eyes and nose with some vine leaves. The more and more I erase them, the more they appear. I shiver in the cold in the only thing that was supposed to keep me warm. A broken, dirty toga that can barely cover my body.

      Things weren't like that. We had a beautiful home, a family and a status in society, and now what I have. I don't have anything. I can feel the whole world crumbling before my eyes.
What did I do to deserve this? Am I not a good man? Have the gods left me? Why did they let this happen to me? Did I do something wrong? I let the questions flood my brain, gripping my body with bitterness. I'm leaving my head soft to one side. Maybe I'm lucky and a wolf will find me and not them. Damn lucky to die by the fangs of a beast and not by their hand.

     Something cold touches my face next to my right eye and I jump. Then there's another one and another. I look up at the branches of the trees. Rain drips slowly and then starts to turn it up.

      The branches of the trees can no longer protect me. I have to find a shelter, if I don't want to, I'll get some hypothermia. I gather my last strength to rise and move on. If I stay here much longer, they'll find me.

      You drag my tired legs under the branches of trees to avoid getting wet. I feel my feet like lead.

      Think positively, I say. The good news is that no one will be looking for me in this storm. Who goes crazy in the storm at night?

      My drops mix with my tears. The rain is getting torrential and I haven't seen a good walk after any shelter.

      I'm trying to increase the pace. Every little part of me screaming with pain, my steps being weighed down by the mud that was created from the rain. Mud that makes me bogged down and fall. With every fall I can stand, it's like I'm less likely to be able to find a shelter. I'll die in the mud in the middle of the forest and end up eating the jivines. Only the thought creeps me. I don't want to die. Not here. Not like this.

      I can feel an electric thrill going through my body. That motivates me to get up and drag my legs forward.

      The rain seems endless, and I find no shelter. I cross my arms with one last effort to keep them warm. My clothes were soaked with water, hanging inert and inutele on my limbs My feet hurt. I can feel my powers leaving. I don't feel my body at all. I'm stumbling on my feet and falling.