Inside a rundown wooden house in the middle of a dense forest, everything smelled faintly of moss and smoke.
The walls were made of rough, uneven planks, patched in places with mismatched boards and nailed-on bark. A crooked window let in thin slivers of sunlight, its glass cracked and clouded.
The roof creaked whenever the wind blew, and the floor was so old and worn that some of the boards bent and squeaked under the slightest pressure. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling, and a crude stone fireplace sat on one side, long gone cold.
On the floor, a black-haired boy lay quietly on a thin blanket.
His breathing was slow and stable, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Sweat marred his entire body, dampening his clothes and making his dark hair stick to his forehead.
