schneeweibchen liked for a started
{ ♬ } —— Quasimodo had never been in any woods this dark or deep before, and he was already beginning to regret his choice to gather firewood for the rest of the caravan. Since he wasn't exactly the most popular of the gypsies, he usually ended up getting the short end of the stick when it came to chores. That, and he wasn't very good at saying no -- or at least, that was what Esmeralda told him.
It might have been especially a downfall in this instance, because he was fairly sure he had wandered much too deep into the woods this time. He lost sight of the campfire some time ago, and there wasn't a path to follow. He tried to keep calm, but when he saw the sun quickly begin to set, he began to panic. He didn't want to be alone in these woods, where every snap of a twig sounded like something that wanted to gobble him up. He quickened his limping steps as much as he could, heart pounding faster every minute -- and then, he saw smoke.
Relieved, thinking he found his way back to the caravan, he followed it. But it drew him father into the woods, not to the break of it. Instead of tents and a campfire, the smoke came from a small house, a solidary piece of civilization in these wood. He didn't like talking to stangers alone...but the sun was already almost gone, and he couldn't find his way back now, not alone. Taking a breath, he walked over to the door and gave it a timid knock.
