A small ragged shape stumbled into a shack. It pulled the door closed behind it, slumping against the wall heavily for a moment before settling to the ground with a soft sigh. It was human-shaped, more or less, though hard to make out for the darkness and the wrappings. It was absolutely covered in cloaks and old scraps of cloth, to the point that no skin showed, and its eyes--- if, indeed, it had eyes--- were hidden beneath the shadows of its cowl.
It was weary. It should not have been possible for it to be weary, but it was.
This was why it had run away. It was not supposed to feel at all.