Another night, much like the past few, was passing slowly by. The Troll Maiden coming and going silently, though tonight I had filled the cup of water for her from the tap in the kitchen which was filled from a basin upon the roof so that she wouldn’t have to seek out the basin beyond the fence in the yard.
I rested upon the floor under the threshold of our bedroom door, listening and waiting for her to come for the cup of water. The hallway before me a ran along the western wall of the tree home, the only doors opening on that side lead into the bathroom and a linen closet. A few feet into the hall to my left a doorway opened into the living room. If you did not turn there, then but a few more feet beyond that doorway was the entrance to the kitchen, which opened up to as well to the left and just beyond that down the hall a few extra feet was the front door.
It seemed that I sat there for days in silence, nothing but my heart beating and the distance chirping of a single bird. I felt no fear though, for this silence was serene and not greatly mingled with the overtones of solitude, not like our days in the belly of Bahamut.
In earnest anticipation of,
Jane
Without Charles
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