Father peregrine was hobbling down the dark cloister. The sounds of a perfectly tuned benedictine chorus droned, echoing off of the cold stone walls that were so lovingly built centuries ago. "Brother Tom, allow me to go check on Francis in the infirmary. I shan't miss Vespers, I assure you." Without replying, the two went and dispersed, each unto his own occupation.
Entering out across the courtyard, Father peregrine had to take great care not to trip upon the cobblestone. For his crutch would slip on the mossy ground, warbled by centuries of erosion. As luck would have it, not more than 15 metres from the door of the infirmary, the abrupt downstroke of the underside of the worn crutch meeting the cobblestones had no reassuring friction to stop Father Peregrine. In a split second, he was lying on the ground, the wind nocked out of him, the crutch cast aside in the crook of two limbs on a near leafless, bug riddled rosebush.
The pain hit him so sudden, that for a moment, he blacked out.
***
Feeling drowsy, his left hip aching, Father Peregrine opened his eyes, seeing not cobblestones, but a strange man, on a large stone-pool of water. "Assistance..please..." He muttered, his pride affected more than his body.
((GRR...I suck at introductions

Hope this was okay... :3))