The moon shone down brightly on the orange and green leaves of the forest. The surrounding trees felt like an enclosure with an endless path leading down no where. The building intensity of the distant rustling of the leaves would scare anyone who decided to go wandering around this forest. Mark ran down the path, hoping this seemingly endless journey to the tower, where he had lived for many years, would come to a close soon. He had been away from the tower, looking randomly around for something that would protect the large domain of the structure. At the break of dawn, he made it to the chipped wooden door of the altitudinous tower. Mark set his dry hands on the old wooden door with great relief and a expectation for it to open on its own.