Prolouge
It was cold, colder than usual, and rain ran down the castle walls in an icy torrent.The Wind, howling like the dogs in the kennels, lifted up the Trees as if daring them to repel, to break beneath its insistent glare. Yet they stayed strong, sturdy, all through that long, Winters night.
The whistle of something small, like a bird, flew past her window and hit the Gravel below, a hundred feet down from where she lay. She finally stirred, brushing her eyes with pale hands, until they fluttered open, gracing her face with prisms of blue.
She sat up, looked at the warm fur blanket that had covered her so comfortingly, and looked at the window, where rain pelted the glass like knives, sharper than steel. She gave the bed one last, longing stare, then stood up. She swept across the room, the soles of her feet, bare without her dainty shoes, hitting the stones with each step. Her hands, willowy and white, stroked the curtains, Red Velvet, and pulled them open so she could see clearer.
The rain had soaked everything in sight, painting the sky a dismal grey, and the storm had covered the edges in an oily black.
She breathed out, her voice a whisper in the night, "Home." and the air turned the warmth from her mouth into a misty cloud, like she was a dragon exhaling steam from the depths of its cavern.
"Yes," She murmured, Her eyes glassy in the light.
"Home."
