The winds of the Shivaliks blew through the trees as they stood on the dark and quiet hill. The skies had masked themselves in the velvet of coal. Vultures circled the towering rocks as the night unfurled. Atop the rock stood a temple that few had managed to find. Legend has it that it had emerged from the depths of the earth 100 years ago and has stood still since then. Lonely howls have long been heard from these parts of wolves and their prey. But tonight they all stood silent. For tonight, a guest was to arrive at that Godforsaken temple.
Untouched by humanity for decades, the temple could have been blown away by the violent of storms but it never ceased to move an inch. Small in size, it was never seen during the day by the common folk and those who knew of it, chose not to speak of it. It was considered a Taboo by all and none dared to come within a mile of the horrific structure. But this was the night when footsteps were to be heard by the walls of this edifice. Probably for the first time, probably not. The footsteps grew louder as they approached towards the door, slow they were, but not weak. A score of silence, broken by the banging of the doors as a silhouette of a being stood at the entrance of the temple. The moonlight fell as it outlined a person, probably a man with long hair, slouching as he carried a bundle over his back.
Frantically, the bundle seemed to be moving.