The night was wild and stormy, as it is on all nights of stories of this nature. A fierce wind swept across the country, bringing with it pounding rain and roaring thunder. The waves crashed down upon seaside villages as the angry storm tore through the land.
And all the while an old, poor woman was hobbling through deep, dark, dangerous forests in the North of the country. She carried on relentlessly, ignoring the drowning sea of rain that was drenching the earth. Her clothes were caked in thick mud and her wrinkled hands and face were smeared with dirt streaks. Every now and again her limp tangled grey hair caught of a stray branch, ripping some of it out. But she carried on; assuring herself and the ones that had sent her that she would reach her destination.
She battled onwards through the chilling rain and the howling wind, the call of the wolves erupting from all around her. They new better than to attack one as old and wise as her, though. They would leave her in peace to carry out her duty.
Her feet were heavy with sloppy mud and she was drenched to the bone but she was close now, so close she could almost feel the coldness of the one who she had come to challenge. After another 10 minuets of dragging her aching feet lightening illuminated the sky and the tower of a castle. It was indistinguishable against the night sky because of the heartless blackness of the dwelling and the one who dwelled inside, cruel and malevolent, treating beings with feeling like slaves and animals. Well now his time was up, he hadn't paid his dues and she had come to collect.
