Peril

Canoan was coming on more swiftly than usual this year, and Peri wasn't sure she'd find shelter on time. The ice of Gandagabian had barely begun to melt, and already the thin blades blades of Canoan were slicing through the air. Not many, not yet; just the occasional blade, possible to ignore if you were wary. But they would get denser, and the peril would grow, and Peri had to get indoors.

There was a hut in the distance. A hermit's residence? She didn't know who it belong to, but it didn't matter. They had to let her in. She had to reach it.

By the time she got to the hut, the blades were already coming faster, and they were harder to dodge. But she made it. Desperately she pounded on the door.

No answer. She pounded again. Still nothing. Were the residents away? Asleep? Just inhospitable? It didn't matter. She had to get in. There was no time to find other shelter. If there was a hostile hermit inside, she'd rather deal with them than the blades.

Glancing around, she saw a window—it was glazed, but it had thick wooden shutters, currently open. Raising a leg, she kicked in the glass and climbed in, not caring that the remainders of the glass cut her hands. The blades of Canoan would cut her worse.

She slammed the shutter just in time, as the bladestorm suddenly grew and she heard the blades thudding into the wood.