The morning sun hits me square upon my face, red on my closed eyelids. I squint one eye open, look up... There is a simple tracery of stone wrought branches above me. Forest?
My confusion lasts a bare moment. The ceiling .. . a bird pipes outside on a tree just breaking into blossom. I am in the elf-vale, and it is spring.
I turn my face towards the room with a languid smile. Today I will walk beside the falls, then to the library and then... My gaze brushes my old tawny cloak, and the deep fur one hung beside it. The one I brought from the south, the other patched together far north of here. I give the cloaks a passing smile. In this sun, however, there is something ... Irritated I slip out of the bed and look. Nothing seems amiss. I run my fingers through the fur hood, like stroking an old hound.
Dust rises from the fur, sparkling in the sun's rays. I turn in the glittering space to reach for a dress. Slipping smooth over my skin, pale, whole ... Unbruised by a sword. Unblemished by frost.
The bird breaks into a full-throated song. Spring. The unexpected realisation spins me on my feet. I clutch at the dusty cloak as though to steady myself. How long have I -been- here?
