The day had been particularly rotten for Zain, even before he was chased by wild dogs and soaked in freezing cold water.  From the moment he awakened in his new body, his host's entire neighbourhood was on a witch hunt.  The young man was suffering with bronchitis, which had developed with such ferocity as to asphyxiate him.  By the time he was received at the hospital ward, they pronounced him dead on arrival.  This was, of course, not true at all, for as soon as the Phoenix took him, he left as healthy as a retriever.  The others found this to be an abomination.  Not a day had passed and he soon heard whispers, of plots to "exorcise" him, of their suspicions he'd been raised with the power of evil.  If anything, the Phoenix figured it had saved the boy's life, although from the inherited memories, nobody would ever see things that way.  Not in this place.<br/><br/>Now, after a<span style="font-style: italic">delightful</span>romp through the woods, it was growing dark.  He didn't plan this pilgrimage well at all.  With little time to pack any supplies, all he had was a bedroll to stay warm and a change of clothing.  Zain would already have to change, he was still soaked from head to foot.  He didn't even know dogs lived in this wood, but the only way to escape them presented itself in the form of a stream.<br/><br/>Zain wasn't concerned about the dark for the same reasons any human would be.  In fact, he could move loads better in the night, but he would be delighted if it weren't so bloody cold.<span style="font-style: italic">Cold, hungry.</span>These were pesky necessities.  Perhaps he had chosen the wrong host, at the wrong time, and the wrong place altogether.  If only he hadn't left at all.  He could have jumped bodies, found one with no such complications.<span style="font-style: italic">No, I'm stuck like this.</span>His bitter thoughts only invited him to observe his surroundings.  He was totally lost.<br/><br/>Zain was never one to quit, however, and despite any influence the Phoenix might have, it couldn't resist.  The Phoenix was now Zain, and Zain was now the Phoenix.  So Zain pressed on, and just as he might climb a tree and make camp, he came upon a clearing in the middle of it all.  He first thought questioned what sort of lunatic with a gun and a bloodhound would be living there.  His second prompted him to investigate.  As it was the middle of the night, he knew that creeping around anyone's property right now would immediately make him a potential threat.  There was a chance, Zain also knew, that the cabin could be totally unoccupied.  It was awfully quiet.  The latter possibility seemed likely.<br/><br/>There was a weeping willow tree next to the shack.  Carefully, as stealthily as he could, he climbed into its boughs.  The thick tendrils would provide a good cover.  Zain bundled up in his sleeping roll, leaning snugly into the trunk and hidden (for the most part) from any stray eyes.  He would wait here, see if there was any activity inside before continuing.  He would only need to maintain a careful watch on the premises.<br/><br/>Which means, of course, that Zain fell asleep instantly.