In the middle of a field he spotted an abandoned barn. Its silver-grey wood shone in the waning light of the sun; from his vantage it looked sturdy. It was still standing.
Alfar, the archaic voice which lived in his head muttered, ill at ease. Whatever it was, this alfar had the appearance and demeanor of a general. Or an executioner.
Where did it come from? Why was it red? And more importantly: what did it mean?