The wind knocked on the battered door, threatening with all of its mighty power to rip it from the hinges. The door stood firm, despite the distress it was in, loyaly defening the inside of the house.
She sat huddled in a corner, watching as rain and lightning graced the rotting panes of her boarded windows. She knew that she should be used to these storms by now, living so close to the sea. Regardless, the wrath of the sky frightened her; it always had.
She knew that the brisk rapping at the door was naught but hail. She knew that the drip from the corner was simply water. She also knew that storms were times in which she was vulnerable. She knew that her little shack could not keep her safe. With this grim knowledge she pulled herself up from the dark corner that she had hidden in.
She walked over to the door. She looked beside the doorframe at two pairs of boots. One pair was battered and old; one was new and of shining leather. The new boots were a gift from one very near to her heart. The very sight of them pained her as she relived the way in which she had hurt the giver by fleeing back to this battered residence. She slipped on the new boots, rejecting her past for her present and future.
She looked to a hook on the side of the wall. On the hook hung a blue velvet cloak. She lifted it from the hook and fastened it around her shoulders, pulling up the hood to shield her face. She slid the clasp into place, laying down her pride. She pushed open the door.
However, as she stepped out into the crashing rain someone siezed her arm and she panicked, turning about to see the face of the one holding her still.
She recognized the face and fell to her knees, sobbing and shaking with terrible joy and terrible sorrow.
"I was going to return to you." She muttered as he knelt down beside her.
"I know," He said, just as softly, "which is why I had decided to save you the journey."