First steps of a hopefully long journey

Wandering alone

The thick fog spit his slender figure, wrapped in brown fabric, out in to the open street, then sucked him again inside its cold and icy body, embracing him again and again. His frentic steps were leading him straight ahead, then suddenly became shaky as the night was spreading his dark wings over the city.
"I forgot... Forgot it... Forgot... I forgot it..." It was an inaudible, faint little mutter coming out of his frozen, numb lips. It sat there like a prayer, his mouth shaking, his legs following the neverending steps, not caring about people staring at him with disgust in their cold eyes. They were getting out if his way like he were carrying some horrible disease they could hardly imagine, but were afraid of. But still, time after time, his bony shoulder bumped into some stranger, leaving curses behind him all the way through the Quarter of Artists. He was still mumbling to himself, his voice getting louder, his words becoming slowly audible as his blazing eyes fell on the starry sky overhead.
"I forgot it... Forgot... Forgot... I FORGOT IT!" Helpless cry cut the frozen air around Yaruel, then came a strange, muffled sound, as his fists hit the wall of a ruined house. The man's mutter became moans of pain, two cold hands embraced as his bony shoulder sank following his tortured body. The grey fog came once again, holding its lover in its icy arms, together with the rectangular stones of the street, covered with snow, brown from the dirt of all the people in Farawayport. Moonless night fell upon him, followed by the cold breathe of death. Still, the crawling destiny couldn't make him care about his surroundings. There was only one thing his thoughts were spinning about, the tiny bottle in his pocket, with which now his stoned fingers were playing.
"I... Forgot... Forgot... It..." His dull, emerald eyes were now focusing on the tiny bottle, filled with gracious, pale liquid, not too much, only a few drops left of the hope remaining for Yaruel. He was not a child anymore, but a fullgrown half-blood, born from the love of a human and an elf. Now with more than thirty winters behind him, he looked at the bottle like a baby looks at the loved face of his mother, licking his lips in excitement.
"I forgot it.. I forgot it..." These words became his fortress in the cold and cruel outside world. These words were saving him from the dark, cold, foggy reality, from the disparaging looks on the stranger faces. This was the only thing, that could make him forget the winter, which already killed the serene autumn and were now looking for his lost and lonely soul...