Leave with your dignity intact

?I?m sorry,? you say, as you take a sip of soup. It?s bitter, but warm and satisfying all the same. ?I cannot work here.?

She frowns. ?I suspected as much.? She looks out the window. ?Looks like it has stopped raining. Thou may finish your bowl of soup and then go you must. About a mile or so north is a blacksmith named Tolle. Tell him thou art a friend of me, Alison.?

You thank her and finish your soup quickly. Leaving, you calculate that?ll it take you about an hour to reach the smithy?s shop.

But you never make it. About ten minutes into your trek, the skies open up again, possibly harder than before. Visibility is zero, and within a few minutes, you?re not even sure if you?re still heading north. The temperature has dropped considerable, numbing first your skin, then your core. Lying down in the grass, you welcome sleep.

You have died of hypothermia