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She had found a tree. In the depths of old branches she had found a space that offered a small shelter from the elements. Four weeks had passed since she lost Sianadh and their way, and she had not dared approach the mansion for fear that it was some glamourie, cast by unseely hands. But the nights were cold with only her shift for warmth, and food was scarce to come by for someone unused to fending for themselves. She had eaten what fruit she could find on the branches, but she was thinner than ever.
Seeing no other choice, the small, scarred waif decided to go to the mansion and seek shelter. She pulled the taltry close so that her face would not offend the residents, and crossed the lawn, an expanse so wide to one so fearful. With shaking hands, she pulled on the bell and hoped that some-one kind would answer.
Seeing no other choice, the small, scarred waif decided to go to the mansion and seek shelter. She pulled the taltry close so that her face would not offend the residents, and crossed the lawn, an expanse so wide to one so fearful. With shaking hands, she pulled on the bell and hoped that some-one kind would answer.