Beauty Within: Chapter 2

Chapter Two



         “Oh, mon dieu! It is a woman! Come in, my dear, come in quickly!” A kind, male voice encouraged. Hands pulled her inside, and she felt warmth course through her body as her eyes adjusted to the light.

         The voice belonged to a tall, thin man several years older than Mable. He tugged at her drenched coat and scarf efficiently, in an indifferent manner that made her positive that he was a servant of some kind. A butler, perhaps. She studied him blankly as he continued to strip her of her outer garments, clucking like some overprotective mother hen over her chick. He had a rather pleasing accent, probably French-Canadian of some sort. His hair was the dark, chestnut brown that Mable had always liked, with the slightest touch of gray at the temples. His face was interesting, with a beak-like nose and thin mouth, which made him look austere. His eyes, on the other hand, were gentle. They were a warm, chocolate brown that studied her, not in distaste, but in a caring, fatherly way that helped her relax a little. He picked up her hands and started to massage them, kneading the blood back into them.

         “You poor, poor thing. We are so sorry we didn’t open the door sooner, but you can never tell with a storm like this, you know. We thought it was just the wind, we never imagined that a lady such as yourself was standing out there in the cold! Come, come, you must sit down.” He led her over to a high-backed chair, gently seating her so he could pull of her boots. Mable, still a little dazed by such elegant treatment, started to flex her hands a little and hissed when pain shot up her arms.

         “Now, sit here for a moment and warm up a little. Make sure you move your feet and hands to get the blood moving again, otherwise it will hurt worse. I’ll go get you room ready, and maybe something to eat. No, don’t argue! You need to rest and warm up; you’re frozen to the core! Wait just a moment, I’ll be right back.” The man hurried off, leaving her dazed and confused in the foyer.

“Okay, you are now in a hidden castle in the middle of the woods. Your cell phone is not working, and aside from your father, who can barely remember his own name half the time, no one knows where you are. You are now in some foyer waiting for some guy. You don’t know his name, but he’s bringing you something to eat. Should you panic? Or should you just chalk it up to a mental break-down?” She whimpered, refusing to answer her own question. Maybe she would wake up and this nightmare would be over. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

         “All right, let’s not panic just yet. After all, he seemed sane. But don’t all psychos seem like regular people? Well, the castle has to be real. You can’t make shit like that up. Right?” she asked herself, and opened her eyes. It would be better to have a decent look at the place, in case she had to run. Mable groaned. Just the thought of running seemed to make her ache with weariness. She couldn’t run, not after fighting this blizzard to get here. Even if she did have the energy, how far would she get? She had no idea where she was.

         Despite these terrifying thoughts running around in her head, Mable could not help being awed by the beauty of the foyer. It was phenomenal. It was longer in length than in width, with several doors, a couple of shades darker than the front doors, which led off to unfamiliar rooms. The whole room was probably bigger than her backyard.  The walls themselves were made of the smoothest marble, a swirl of gray and white hues that seemed to dance around the room. The floor underneath her feet was also the same, with only a dark, elegant wood molding to separate the walls from the floor. A long, ornate carpet stretched lengthwise through the foyer, ending at a door straight across from the front doors. It was a piece of artwork in and of itself, a mixture of red, gold, and black that was a blur in to her weary eyes. Bordering the area of the room were chestnut tables that held large, thick vases full of colorful flowers. Mable’s eyes lingered on the roses; they couldn’t be phony. Their petals gleamed with color and life, and their scent had reached her nose; a perfume so thick it made her sleepier than she already was. Shaking her head to clear it, she spotted several trinkets on the tables, along with the flowers. The one next to her chair held a small, gold clock that ticked monotonously. She frowned at it, her heavy eyes straining to focus on the time. It couldn’t possibly be after midnight? 

         Her eyes fluttered, but she forced herself to stay awake. She looked up, hoping to snap herself out of it. She ended up gaping at the ceiling instead. A chandelier that was bigger than her car was hanging down, and despite its size, it still only took up half the ceiling. The rest of the ceiling was painted ornately with cherubs, angels, and other heavenly creatures that seemed to move when she glanced at them. She did only glace at them, because, even though the light was bright enough to make her eyes water, she couldn’t tear her sight away from the chandelier. Its size was astounding, but the sheer detail put into piece fascinated her. Gold chain fastened it to the heavens above, and trickled down where it seemed to branch out in a million directions. At the end of each branch was a bright, shimmering bulb that glittered in her vision. Not only that, but each of the bulbs were exactly alike, in every detail. She did not see even one that was burnt out, flickering, or misshapen. They were all perfect, and the warm glow spread from the bulbs all the way down to where Mable sat in her chair. It was a masterpiece, a wonderful melding of art and electricity.

Mable heard shoes clicking down one of the halls, and forced her eyes away from the chandelier to the foyer.  The large door across from the front doors opened, and in walked a stately woman, dressed sensibly in a knee-length uniform that Mable instinctively decided was a servant’s outfit. The woman tapped her way over to Mable, her eyes never leaving Mable’s face.  She was also a several years older than Mable, with brown hair that stopped just above her shoulders. It was the kind of straight, manageable hair that Mable had always envied. Not one strand was out of place, and it swung majestically as the woman came forward. Her eyes, a bright, emerald green, remained focused on Mable, making her feel self-conscious. The woman stopped in front of Mable, still staring. She probably was not much taller than Mable, but from her seat, Mable felt insignificantly short. The woman’s body was lean and muscled, but not heavily.          

Another servant, most likely, thought Mable tiredly. Just what is this place?

         The woman bent down, so her eyes were level with Mable’s, making her even more nervous. Then the woman smiled, almost in understanding, and Mable felt a bit more at ease. The smile was kind, motherly and started from her lips all the way to her eyes. Mable smiled sleepily back. She had no idea why she felt so comforted, and so at home with where she was. She was just happy to know that those eyes were no longer staring at her in that calculating way they had before. Something about that smile was just like a salve on her worries.

         “Good evening, mademoiselle. I am terribly sorry for what happened earlier, leaving you out in the storm like that. Are you feeling better?” the woman’s voice was soothing, and Mable relaxed even more. Something about this lady helped her keep from panicking, even though she had only just met the woman. Mable nodded, and had to stop abruptly because the movement made her head spin. The woman clicked her tongue, shaking her head in sympathy. “You poor darling, you must be exhausted. It is quite a storm raging out there, and you were probably wading your way through the worst part of it. Do not worry; we’ll take good care of you.” The woman patted Mable’s hand compassionately. The gracious hostess stood up, her hands still on Mable’s.

         “Come. I’ll take you to your room.”  She said warmly, her hands gently tugging at Mable’s. Without the slightest idea of what was going on, Mable stood, shakily. She was glad to know that she could still make her body move properly, despite her fatigue, and was willing to go anywhere as long as she was able to sit down, and maybe close her eyes for a bit. Her worries of psychopaths and madmen disappeared, as if washed away, and she followed her hostess without question. She barely took the time to look around as the woman led her through endless hallways, each longer than the last, and was only conscious of her aching feet and the weight of exhaustion. Her eyes refused to adjust to the low lighting in the corridors, and she could only see the dark head of her companion in front of her. Mable could hear the clomping of her boots on soft carpet, and winced. She could only imagine the amount of work some poor servant, maid or whatever was going to have after she was through.

         Mable was pushed through halls, pulled up stairs, and coaxed through various doors and passages by the woman whose name she had not even asked, until finally they stopped in front of a large, wooden door. This door was like the ones in the foyer, with a blank nameplate placed at her eye level. The woman turned to smile gently at her, and pushed the door open, leading Mabel into the most beautiful room she had ever seen.

Mable stepped further into the room and turned slowly, taking to all in. The room was ten times larger than her room at home, the walls covered with crimson velvet and tapestries spun in gold and silver. The floor was also gleaming wood, sanded so smoothly that it shone and looked almost golden in the candlelight. The room had two windows, both with seating so a guest could sit and study the world peacefully, on a sunny day. Tonight though, the world outside was less than peaceful, and Mable shivered gratefully when the woman gently closed the curtains. Mable inspected the other parts of the room, glad to have an excuse to look away from the dark, intimidating storm outside those windows.

On her right, next to the door, was a hand-crafted desk with papers stacked neatly in the left-hand corner on the top. Mable blinked at the bottles of ink and quills that lined the right-hand corner of the desk. It seemed natural that this place had no modern equipment, but it was still startling to see a desk that looked like it came out of a history book. The desk itself was nice enough; made of gleaming mahogany with shelves and drawers to keep things tidy. Mable could imagine herself spending hours letting her imagination just run away, writing down whatever came to her mind and happen to spill onto the paper. She shook her head trying to get rid of the image, and only succeeded in making herself dizzy. Head reeling, she tried to focus on something else to continue standing upright.

A vanity table with an ornate mirror stood on her left, the edges trimmed with gold, silver jars and hairbrushes neatly displayed for her perusal. Mable glanced at herself in the mirror and winced. She looked ragged, her hair dripping and her face red with the blood returning to her cheeks. Turning so she wouldn’t have to look, she gasped in delight when she saw the canopied bed and night table. The bed was humongous, big enough to fit six people comfortably. It was covered with cream-colored blankets and pillows, the canopy above a dark, spring green. Mable inched closer to lay her hand on the bedposts, smiling when she saw that they were carved delicately to look as if ivy was slowly creeping up and spreading over the bed, sheltering whomever was sleeping below. Mable felt the weariness return, and a terrible longing to lie down and never get up again.

         “Come, mademoiselle.” The woman, who had stayed silent while Mable gaped, went over to the bed and pulled the covers away, motioning for Mable to lie down.

         “No offense or anything, but you probably don’t want me sleeping in that bed with these wet clothes on.” Mable said, feeling lame because she sounded like some sort of worrisome neat-freak.

         “It does not matter much to me; I am here to make you feel welcome, not to worry about wet sheets. But it probably would be more comfortable for you to wear something warm and dry. Un moment, s’il vous plait.” The woman stepped up to a door Mable hadn’t noticed, and opened it wide enough so Mable could see endless varieties of clothes. There seemed to be millions of colors, fabrics and styles. Mable stared in fascination while the woman bustled about through some drawers over to one side.

         “Where did all that come from? Do you guys own some sort of clothes emporium or something?”Mable asked, still staring as the woman returned with some underwear and a simple, green nightgown.

         “No, that is not quite it, mademoiselle,” the woman chuckled, “let’s say we just have a lot of good seamstresses in this house. Now, if you would like to change out of those wet things, I will take them to be cleaned. You will have them back tomorrow, I imagine.” The woman beckoned to the closet, “You can change in there, if you wish.” She held out the clothes, and frowned in concern when Mable hesitated. “What is wrong, mademoiselle?”

Mable fidgeted, feeling her face grow warm with embarrassment. “They may not be my size, so you may need-”she broke off when the woman laughed merrily.

         “No, no, these will fit you fine, do not worry. You just change out of those wet clothes.”

         Mable took the clothes, still feeling a little awkward. She doubted this lean, lovely woman would know much about plus sizes. Mable herself was not really fat, just plump, but it still made shopping unpleasant, especially when she went with her two, gorgeous older sisters. The humiliation of comparing herself in front of a mirror with Jean and Colette still haunted her. With that on her mind, Mable stumbled into the closet, preparing to try on clothes that wouldn’t fit. If she had to, she could sleep without clothes, but the thought creeped her out a little. She liked to sleep with something on, even an oversized nightshirt. The butler she had met drifted into her head. Maybe he could lend her a shirt. She grinned at the idea of that well-dressed, polite man lending her a night-shirt.

Stripping off her wet clothes, she studied the numerous amounts of dresses, slacks, and blouses that hung on the racks that circled the closet. It was more of a room, since it could probably fit five of her closets combined in its space. A flickering candle was encased in crystal glass, keeping the fire away from the flammable garments. Shoes were aligned on the floor, everything from high heels to slippers, all in different colors. After pulling off her sweater, she took a peek in some of the drawers on the left. One held underwear, of various shades and fabrics. Another held socks, tights, and leggings. The third held jewelry. Necklaces, rings and bracelets glittered from their cozy spot in the drawer, winking up at her in the light. Some had diamonds, some had rubies or sapphires, and some had jewels Mable couldn’t even name. She reached in to touch one, just to see if they were real, but noise outside startled her, and she started to hurriedly pull off the rest of her clothes.

To her surprise and immense pleasure, the underwear and nightgown fit perfectly, and were incredibly comfortable. The nightgown was soft cotton that came down to her ankles, with enough ruffles to be pretty, but not so many that she would have trouble sleeping. She thought giddily that it even made her look more feminine. Giggling at her whimsy, and feeling quite cozy, Mable wandered back out into the bedroom, holding her still-dripping clothes far away from her. The woman was in the same position as before, only now her smile was back, friendly and welcoming.

“Wonderful, I will take those,” She held out her hand for Mable’s wet things, “and you may get into bed. I will be right back, don’t you worry. Food is on its way, and then you can get a good night’s sleep.” It was only when the woman had tapped out of the room that Mable realized that she had not asked the woman her name.

Happy to finally lie down, Mable jumped into the bed, and snuggled in the blankets and pillows. Oddly, she felt at home here, though she did not know why. She was still in a strange place with people she hardly knew, but the very thought of food and sleep made Mable feel content. She rested her head against the pillows, savoring the warmth and softness. Her mind drifted, and she stretched like a cat in the sun. Outside the wind whipped and howled, but inside all she could hear was the crackling of the candles. She briefly wondered how a place that depended on fireplaces and candles for light and warmth could have a chandelier in the foyer. It certainly didn’t look like it had candles; in fact it looked like something that one would find in a fancy mansion. A mansion that was fully equipped with electricity, to be precise. This place didn’t seem to have any form of electricity, or even plumbing, that she could see. She puzzled about the chandelier, but her sleep-deprived mind would not focus for long, and she decided to let the question go unanswered. She resigned herself to thinking about less confusing subjects, since her eyes were getting heavy. She was just about to doze off when a gentle knock at the door caused her to sit up straight.

Unsure of whether to answer or get up and open the door herself, Mable compromised, by getting out of bed and calling, “Who’s there?”

“It is only me, mademoiselle. I have your dinner.” The pleasant, male voice was familiar, and Mable went to open the door. However, before she could reach it, the door was opened and the man she met earlier came in bearing a tray.  He smiled down at her, his expression so kind it instantly made Mable feel embarrassed.

         “Sorry, I wasn’t sure whether to open the door or… you’re in now, so I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” She babbled, a little nervous, and humiliated to be seen in a nightgown. No one had ever seen her in night clothes except for her sisters and father.  On top of that, she didn’t even know how to treat a butler, or servant, whatever he was. She relaxed when his smile softened, and he tipped his head towards the bed.

         “It is quite all right, my lady. Go sit down, and I’ll prepare this tray so you can eat. Do try to eat it all, the cooks made it especially for you. It would hurt their feelings if it came back half full.” He followed her at a nerve-wracking distance, but the smell of hot soup made her mouth water so she put up with it. She jumped into bed and settled herself, ridiculously pleased when the man tucked her in firmly and fussed with the tray.

         “It smells delicious!” She exclaimed, her spoon halfway to her mouth as she spoke. She took a bite and sighed. It was a wonderful stew filled with bits of beef and vegetables that seemed to warm her from head to toe. “Oh, this is good!” she shoveled it down, becoming less aware of her companion by the second. She took a small sip from the cup next to her bowl, rolling the taste on her tongue. It was some sort of juice, cool and sweet, complementing the stew sensationally. She ate and drank until she felt she was going to burst. She sat back, and looked guiltily up at the man, who had patiently stood next to her while she wolfed down food like a barbarian.

         “Sorry about that. I totally forgot my manners. I can’t believe I was so hungry, I guess it has been a long time since I last ate. Thanks for dinner…um.” She blinked stupidly. She hadn’t ever asked this man his name either.

         Thankfully he wasn’t offended. He just chuckled and said sincerely, “Monsieur Lune, my lady. I am the House Steward; I am in charge of the men who work in this castle. If you need anything at all, just ask.” He started to gather up the tray, and Mable sat back so he wouldn’t knock into her and spill anything.

         “Monsieur Lune. Thank you for the meal…oh, and thank the cooks too.” She smiled brightly at him, feeling content and a triumphant. She finally knew someone’s name!

         Monsieur Lune beamed down at her once more, the tray finally ready to go. “You are quite welcome, my lady. I will be sure to give the cooks your thanks. They will be quite pleased to know you enjoyed it. Now please, get some sleep. You had a long day.” Still smiling, Monsieur Lune headed for the door.

         He stopped abruptly when the woman who led Mable to the bedroom reappeared in the doorway. Mable blinked; it had looked like she had appeared out of thin air. It could not possibly have happened though, because the woman walked gracefully into the room like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She spotted Mable, and a smile lit her face.

         “Good, you have had dinner. I will just say good night then, and blow out the candles so you can get some rest.” She nodded politely to Monsieur Lune, who bowed awkwardly back.

         “Good night, Monsieur Lune.” Mable called, having a sudden urge to call out to him as she would her own father. Like her father, Monsieur Lune turned around and smiled warmly, almost affectionately.

         “Bonne nuit, my lady. Sweet dreams.” He said with feeling, and left the room.

The woman fussily plucked the pillows behind Mable’s head, and pushed her gently so she would lie down.

“You sleep now, mademoiselle. It has been a long day.” The woman proceeded to blow out the candles around the room.

Mable yawned, feeling sleep overcome her. She watched blearily as the woman finished her work and picked up the last candle. The woman was getting ready to leave the room, when Mable suddenly shot up in bed, remembering the question she had wanted to ask. Perhaps she could have asked later, but her weariness and tired mind made the question seem more important than it probably was, so she ended up almost shouting, “What’s your name?” in a panicked, fearful voice.

The woman started at the tone, and stared at her. It was obvious that she thought Mable had fallen asleep already, and was not expecting questions. Her lips curved in a smile after a moment, the candlelight making her face look eerie in the dark.

“I am Madame Cecile. I will be your personal servant while you stay here. What is your name?”

“Mable Lawrence” Mable saw the woman give her a quick nod to indicate that she heard, and felt the fear and panic fade away, As the woman left, Mable slowly slipped into darkness, her mind echoing the name Madame Cecile.





         Mable awoke to the sounds of birds chirping joyfully outside the window. Not quite ready to get up yet, Mable rolled over and put a pillow over her head. She could sense the chilly atmosphere outside her bed, and was not willing to get up and walk around in the cold. She snuggled under the covers, enjoying the feel of warm cotton against her skin. The birds continued to twitter cheerily, alerting her to the sun’s reappearance in the sky. The snow must have stopped, for a little while. She had lived in Montana long enough to know that more was probably on the way. It was going to be a couple of days before anyone could get out of their houses again. Well, there was plenty of food in the house; they could survive on that for a few days. She groaned inwardly, remembering that she would have to shovel the walk in an hour or so, after she had gotten her father up…except she wasn’t at home.

         Mable shot up in bed, the memories of last night finally coming back to her. She was not at home; she was in some strange castle in the middle of the woods. Not only that, but she was in a castle with a bunch of strangers. People she had only met last night. She remembered being cold, and lost. Then coming here, and being treated like a queen. She remembered Madame Cecile, and the butler, Monsieur Lune. She remembered falling asleep. Everything that had been lost in sleep came back to her, in one painful moment. She had sort of been hoping it had all been a horrible nightmare. Mable threw off the covers, ignoring the cold air stinging her legs. Above all else, she needed to use the bathroom and take a shower. Perhaps her morning ritual would make everything seem less like a dream and more like a reality.

         Mable noticed a gray robe gracefully placed on one of the chairs, and swiftly put it one, and was pleased to find it fit her perfectly. She glanced around, biting her lower lip. There were only two doors that were in the room, the one that led to the hallway and the closet. There was no bathroom, as far as she could tell. How was she supposed to take a shower if there was no bathroom? Furthermore, there didn’t seem to be any plumbing here, though she wasn’t certain about that. There had been electricity powering the chandelier, she was sure of that, so maybe she had jumped to conclusions. That still didn’t mean she knew where to go to take a shower.

         Resigned, Mable opted to pick out clothes instead. Perhaps Madame Cecile would return and tell her where the bathroom was.  Thinking wistfully of her bathroom back home, where everything was where she wanted it, Mable went to open the door to the closet. As her hand touched the doorknob, a jolt went straight up her arm, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It felt like static electricity, a small shock that made her jump. The jolt vanished as soon as it had come, and Mable was free to open the door.

         “Oh shit.”

She had stepped into the bathroom at home.

Mable swung around in a circle, completely flabbergasted. This room had been a closet only last night, but now it was her bathroom. It was exactly like the one at her house, from the mint green wallpaper all the way to the cracked showerhead. Her toothbrush was sitting on the counter, with her favorite brand of toothpaste. Her towel was flung over the rack, just like normal. The radiator whistled as it started its early routine. Everything that she had loved about her old bathroom was right here.

A little cautious, since there was a possibility that all this would disappear any minute, Mable crept over to the shower. She gently turned the knob, and water streaked out of the showerhead, causing her to jump back.  It was just like the one at her house.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Mable breathed, and tested the water with her fingertips. It was already steaming hot. She adjusted the temperature, and waited as it cooled down enough to be hot, but not scorching. She wasn’t quite sure how this had all happened, but she wasn’t about to let some magic phenomena mess up her morning routine. She found her shampoo and conditioner right where she normally left it, and proceeded with her morning ceremony.

After she had cleaned up, Mable went back out into the bedroom, shivering slightly in the cold air. Despite that, she felt better, and a little more at home here. Mable loved having set routines and schedules, and being able to do her morning schedule had helped, a little. She continued with tradition and made her bed, then went back to the closet door. If there was a bathroom behind there now, where had the closet gone?

She opened the door again, and felt the jolt of electricity race up her arm once more. The door swung open to reveal the closet, just as it was last night.

“Now hold on just a goddamn second!” She snapped, and slammed the door. Thinking about her bathroom again, she yanked the door back open. This time, it was the bathroom, the windows still steamed up from her shower. She closed it. She thought about the closet. She opened again. There it was, the closet, just as it had always been. She did this several times, opening and closing the door, always feeling that little spark of electricity race up her arm. The spark was not as sharp now that she had done it a few times, and soon she wasn’t able to feel the spark at all. Finally, her fury and curiosity spent, she thought of the closet, and reopened the door. Mumbling under her breath, she slammed through the drawers and racks for clothes.

After finding some underwear which, once again, fit her perfectly, Mable searched through the clothes to find something comfortable, like jeans. Instead, she found a pretty blue blouse that she immediately loved, and a pair of gray slacks that would do for a while. She couldn’t find any jeans, but the garments she picked were plenty warm and comfy enough. She found a pair of slip-on shoes that were almost like slippers, they were so soft. A little calmer, now that she was dressed, she shuffled through the drawer with jewelry, the decided against it. Most of the pieces were too extravagant for her tastes, and certainly not appropriate for just wandering around.

She closed the drawer sadly. It wasn’t often she got to wear jewelry, and she liked having excuses to dress up, even if she could never find a dress that fit her quite right. However, she was a little anxious, and did not want to wear anything that didn’t belong to her. The clothes were all right, since she was just borrowing them, but wearing the jewelry made it seem like she just helped herself. It wasn’t polite, and probably unsafe. She didn’t know enough people around here to have defenders in case she got into trouble. She had better keep a low profile until the snow ceased and she could go home.

         Forlornly, Mable stepped out of the closet, and laughed quietly when she heard her stomach growl. It had been a long time since dinner. She wondered briefly if Madame Cecile or Monsieur Lune would come back soon enough to lead her to wherever she could get food. Either person would be good right now. It was rather odd, but she seemed to trust them completely even though she had not known them for more than one night. Perhaps it was their warm smiles, or their kind eyes that made her feel safe. It may have even been the parental air about them, as if she were talking to her own parents. They did remind her a bit of her father and mother, with the way Monsieur Lune tucked her in, and Madame Cecile led her around the castle. She felt at home here, and that was a blessing in itself.

         Lost in thought, Mable absently unfastened the curtains that hid the morning sunlight. She sighed blissfully when she felt the sun on her face, and had to give her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden light before she studied the world outside. She realized she was far up, at least five stories. She had no fear of heights, she even enjoyed being so far up. She let her eyes feast on the landscape, appreciating the beauty and the novelty of a new place.

         The forest was covered under a blanket of snow, glittering in the sunlight like a layer of diamonds on the ground. Mable looked just below her, away from the forest, and gasped. She saw what looked like giant garden, filled with benches and little archways. She could bet that during the summer it was full of flowers and shrubs, blooming vibrantly to celebrate the last few months of sun and warmth before being covered in snow once again. Now, though, it was one big region of snow and ice, still stunning in its appearance. Closer to the castle was a courtyard with some more benches. This area was larger and probably used for elegant dances and parties when the weather was right. Now, under the snow, the courtyard was empty, except for some feathered guests. Bird gathered in clusters on the benches, their twittering and chirping making Mable smile. Someone had put seed outside, so the birds could gain enough energy to keep warm through the storm that was bound to come. Already Mable could see gray clouds rolling through the sky, ready to bequeath another night’s worth of snow upon them.

         She focused her attention on a little pond set away from the garden and courtyard. It was the only thing not covered in snow, and she could see that it had been brushed off. She could guess why. The whole pond was covered in a thick layer of ice that she could see from her window, even this high up.

         She was just wondering if the servants would let her have a little fun on the ice when her stomach gave another loud growl. Sighing she turned from the window, preparing to find her way downstairs, or anywhere that would lead her to food.  She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a small girl sitting on her bed, watching her.