Like a winged demon he came, the hooves of his horse beating a path to her soul. His dark cloak billowed behind him as he galloped along the muddy path, birthed from the gloomy woods that bordered the village. She watched him with interest. Aside from merchants, strangers were an uncommon sight in their small settlement. She stood on the gently rolling bank of the hill, the cool spring air biting her cheeks as her skirts flowed around her ankles, the hem of her white gown muddied from her short journey to solitude. From her position she could look out over the village of Beldersert and its farms. Houses were strewn haphazardly, scattered across the bulk of the land, radiating from her home - the manor house. Its thatched roof and whitewashed walls watched over the huts like a mother hen doting on her chicks. Children played in the street as they dallied over their chores, ignoring the scolding shouts from their parents. People worked the fields and tended the animals, fetching water from the well and greeting one another with a friendliness borne of living in close quarters.
