And it was raining.
John Louis Bray hated the rain. He had been unceremoniously dropped at the crossroads a few hundred yards back. Protesting to the driver of the carriage that it was unfair, and even offering extra funds to complete the journey, the driver had firmly told him in broken English 'no'.
The coach was to go no further. For all the money in the world.
A huge crack of thunder echoed out across the mountain range, followed by a bolt of lightning, arcing across the night sky and illuminating the area in vivid white light.
The path Bray was on was set between dense forest on either side. Looking up at the sliver of sky between the parted forest rooftop, Bray beheld a breathtaking sight.
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