This is the first page or so of something I'm writing; I edited it for you, and I might post more tomorrow. Ana lived in Dunstone, the capital of Dunland, a peninsular nation shaped something like the foot of a fool, with curved toe and baggy pantaloons. To the direct West of their city lay the Great Wall, built directly across the ankle (so to speak), and guarded from the ocean at the northern end by a small fleet. There was, of course, a much larger fleet on the toe of the shoe, inside of the bay created by the inward curve of the peninsula off the Eastern side of the continent, which when viewed on a large-scale map made the fool’s leg appear to be bent at a very uncomfortable angle, although Ana knew none of this, as she had never seen a map before. That bit of irrelevance aside, Ana was now cleaning out the stables. She dreaded this particular chore, for good reason, but was forced to do it to placate her father. Her parents had not been blessed with a great number of sons; After her brother was born, Ana’s mother died giving birth to her sister. A year later, her father remarried, but her stepmother had not borne him any children. Fortunately, due to an old convenience of blood, they owned their farm, and so could sell it and move into Dunstone, where her father had an Inn constructed. Ana was twelve when this happened. Today was her sixteenth birthday. As usual for spring in the peninsula, the way was raining and cold. As she walked towards the inn-house, it’s bleakness soaked through her skin, making her shivering compounded with the cold of the rain. Her small body huddled inside of her oilskins as she stepped up the stairs to the door. It was all but empty inside; Their only tenants at this time of day were the tables and chairs, holding conference with the fireplace and unlit candles. Alana peeked into the kitchen, and finding it empty, ran back to the fireplace to dry her bones. The smoky inn still made her cough a little, but she loved to watch the orange flames dance their shadows across the walls. As her dreams fell into the fire, the rafters creaked as the house rolled over in its sleep. The wind sang its howling lullaby as she drifted off to sleep. Pulling her rudely back from the edge of Nod, the door swung almost off its hinges, letting the angry storm howl through. The floor complained as a thickly-clad body stumbled in like a walking corpse before falling against his walking stick. An attempt to move forward was intercepted by a stool at one of the long tables, catching his foot and making him stumble more violently until he finally settled into it, leaning on the table. He beckoned to Ana, and her mind froze; the entire world fell still as the door swung violently shut, though the wind still rang true through every inch of everything. She realized now how young he was; Not much older than she, though very tired, with rings under his eyes and the growing shadow of a beard. Pleading something in a language she couldn't understand, he pointed to the fire, and she helped him to his feet. As they lurched their way to the fire, she was little aware of how great a mistake she had made. More tomorrow. Again, I'm just looking for a little constructive criticism. Pull it apart as much as you like.