Gale flew alone in the dark night, as a chilly wind slapped his face. He increased his speed, unceasingly; uncared and unbothered by the wind.
Even the local festival had calmed down, as it was hours past midnight. Still, half of the lights were still blaring. Only a handful of people could be seen in the area, mostly drunkards and prostitutes.
It was a moonlit night as one full and another crescent moon beamed in the sky like an old-school lightbulb with countless stars twinkling, although the gathering clouds would cover them soon enough, if the Sun didn't overshadow them before that.
Gale flew aimlessly. He simply closed his eyes and let the wind lead him.
Unconsciously, Gale found himself approaching Stormhold, which might be because he had no other place to be, and the wind was leading in that direction. Probably the latter.
On most occasions, flying calmed him down, but that was not today.
