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He eventually arrived at Harlston Port. The town struck him as quiet. The sun was beginning to set but already everyone had finished work and was home. The glow of candles burning in each house, the warmth seeping through the doors from each cottage, the smell of different foods cooking in different kitchens and the unfamiliar scenes of families sitting together was a much different place to Darington. The streets had an eerie presence to them, almost completely devoid of life except from the odd rat squeaking by in search of food. The dock stood empty and ghost-like as it loomed through the blinding, setting sun. The streets were paved with small pebbles, slippery after the eveningï'½s rain. Clouds of smoke joined from all the cottage chimneys, banding together and swirling above them like a thunder storm approaching, blackening the sky above, blocking the blinking stars and glowing moon from sight. Only a small glimpse of them was offered as the smoke moved around, dancing with the breeze as it moved towards the cottages from the west. The shock of desperation stabbed him violently in the chest. No ships were docked; no work was here for him.

To the right of the large dock was a small street, containing small cottages and stalls selling produce. A small tavern was squeezed tightly in between two cottages, refuge for the local men. The light from the tavern reached out a glowing hand and drew him close. The lure of laughter seemed irresistible to him as he walked towards it. He eventually arrived at Harlston Port. The town struck him as quiet. The sun was beginning to set but already everyone had finished work and was home. The glow of candles burning in each house, the warmth seeping through the doors from each cottage, the smell of different foods cooking in different kitchens and the unfamiliar scenes of families sitting together was a much different place to Darington. The streets had an eerie presence to them, almost completely devoid of life except from the odd rat squeaking by in search of food. The dock stood empty and ghost-like as it loomed through the blinding, setting sun. The streets were paved with small pebbles, slippery after the eveningï'½s rain.

Clouds of smoke joined from all the cottage chimneys, banding together and swirling above them like a thunder storm approaching, blackening the sky above, blocking the blinking stars and glowing moon from sight. Only a small glimpse of them was offered as the smoke moved around, dancing with the breeze as it moved towards the cottages from the west. The shock of desperation stabbed him violently in the chest. No ships were docked; no work was here for him.

To the right of the large dock was a small street, containing small cottages and stalls selling produce. A small tavern was squeezed tightly in between two cottages, refuge for the local men. The light from the tavern reached out a glowing hand and drew him close. The lure of laughter seemed irresistible to him as he walked towards it. He eventually arrived at Harlston Port. The town struck him as quiet. The sun was beginning to set but already everyone had finished work and was home. The glow of candles burning in each house, the warmth seeping through the doors from each cottage, the smell of different foods cooking in different kitchens and the unfamiliar scenes of families sitting together was a much different place to Darington. The streets had an eerie presence to them, almost completely devoid of life except from the odd rat squeaking by in search of food. The dock stood empty and ghost-like as it loomed through the blinding, setting sun. The streets were paved with small pebbles, slippery after the eveningï'½s rain. Clouds of smoke joined from all the cottage chimneys, banding together and swirling above them like a thunder storm approaching, blackening the sky above, blocking the blinking stars and glowing moon from sight. Only a small glimpse of them was offered as the smoke moved around, dancing with the breeze as it moved towards the cottages from the west. The shock of desperation stabbed him violently in the chest. No ships were docked; no work was here for him.

To the right of the large dock was a small street, containing small cottages and stalls selling produce. A small tavern was squeezed tightly in between two cottages, refuge for the local men. The light from the tavern reached out a glowing hand and drew him close. The lure of laughter seemed irresistible to him as he walked towards it.