Anthony had spent the night in the kind woman's house. After taking a shower in the morning, he dressed in his jeans and a clean shirt. It didn't hurt to be smartly dressed. A cooked breakfast was ready for him and, when he had finished, the lady gave him a lift to the edge of the village of Cartham.
A few people were out and about on the high street, but they took little notice of him. On the other side of the village he would find a road which would take him to the cottage he had seen in his vision. Full of the swagger of youth, his steps faltered when he neared his destination.
The building up ahead was like something out of a bucolic painting. Not the dramatic sort of place for a rite of passage. Why was he so reluctant to go inside? Anthony had no choice in the matter. His feet carried him on towards his destiny. The clouds were gathering and it was starting to rain. That did not bode well.
