Depleted and tired out, Rosalie dragged her weak body towards a little hut that stood not too far from where she was.
The door was closed but she had no choice but to knock on it. She needed help and was powerless and feeble. Her body could no longer bear the harshness of the wind outside. The cold bit mercilessly on her skin and there were evident ghost pimples.
It was already in the dark of the night, Luckily, she had long lost her pursuers. But as she thought, she couldn't trace her way back home. It was unattainable.
Knowing well enough that all that was on her mind then was to escape them in their pursuit for her life. And she followed her instinct wherever it told her to dive, and that she did.
She was so indulged in saving herself that she had lost trace of where she was heading. And now it was past midnight, there was no hope of returning, at least yet.
