Shrewd and cold i’ve been known to be, the colours are dulled by the contouring landscape. I am called gale, a common name in these parts. Brown and dusty is my trail, as i walk these ragged steppes. The old farmhouse in front in its flaked muddy glory. The slight winds chill my worked tanned skin. I’m on my way to my daily dreary work. This morning sun warms no matter. I wish to be free, not tied to a tree. I shuffle on towards the pigs, time for feeding is here. They grunt and stomp as i ready their meal. For me it’s a misery.

I dust and clean their filthy pen, the manure is shoveled in the barrel. It’s needed for the farms they say, wish they’d pay some more than just leftover oats. I should just leave, this farm is not for me.

And so i left, before the lunch and into the bunch. I traveled through forest and bush, into the unknown shrubs. It took several hours until i reached, a lonely village sound at ease. The open grasslands and forest surrounding the small wooden barns and huts. The farmed soil looked to be quite healthy. As upon a summers breeze i fluttered through with some concern and some thought. Walking on this field of grass i wonder where to should i turn. I’ve no family, no place where i belong. Perhaps my fate is to wander the plains and forests never settling down. should i turn to a path of crime? My thoughts grew darker.

I had made my choice. I would steal petty food and coins to learn here. Afterwards travel further into a city of great standing to move from low to high. My pay shall be great and my infamy unknown. Though this plan of mine is great and all i still harbor this shallow doubt.

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And the days passed as i cleverly disguised my actions as mere accidents and was justly named the village kluts. The fools of this village where unsuspecting. After said month i was living well, my belly full of delicious meals and drinks to tell. The cozy fire of an inn well kept warmed my newly traded fur. But all good times must end.

I was caught stealing by a lonely maiden off the outskirts of the village. She threatened to tell, so i hit her well. My bloody knuckles sparked the flames and gone was her pretty face. I hid her in the thicket and washed away the blood. River tainted and all is well, i felt no shame and no sorrow for the maiden that day.

She was found some while later, half rotten and eaten by prey. Words went around but nothing was found. They dubbed it an accident and carried on. The countless tears the family shed stained my heart all but red. I enjoyed it, i nearly smiled in front of the grievers. Nothing would hinder me, my clever ploy had just barely begun.

I’ve tasted the sweet sensation of causing misery. Its taste blinds me to the consequences, but I already know that. As the days go forth i proceed to carry out my malicious plans. The plots in place are a secret, terrible sounds echo through the night. They know, they spotted me, they fear me and call me monster. Torches pitched high, chasing through the night sky. How did i end up like this, greediness made me shallow and twisted. I pour myself in oil and enter their vision as i smile my last smile and run into their flames.

They say i was as mad as the flames that torched me and they still tell of the Gale of flames.