The heat felt oppressive. Or was that simply the weight of her own thoughts?
Behind the small cottage, a sunlit glade shone verdantly green in the late afternoon hours. Hidden from the front of the house, none would see her unless they traipsed through the forest and directly into her little hideaway. A comfortable chaise longue, crafted of wood, and draped with a soft coverlet, provided the sitting place for the woman.
Her skin seemed too pale for the stark contrast of her richly dark hair, which shone like polished mahogany in the sunlight. Eyes large and round like those of a doe looked out across the small space. A thin dressing gown of some material that would not be familiar to the locals of nearby Bree-town was draped around the lush curves of hips and breasts, while the white flesh of arms and legs lay bare.
A small table sat beside the chaise, and upon it was a tea cup. Beside this, a delicate plate held a tiny bowl. Her shapely fingers dipped inside the bowl and then moved to her lips.
It is better this way.
Her gaze seemed vacant and hollow. The lush forest just a few meters away did not appear to be noticed. The dark fan of eyelashes fluttered repeatedly, but the small, pinpoint pupils beneath were seeing things beyond the sun-drenched scene.
Another move of the milky wrist. Her jaw cycled slowly in a lazy chewing motion.
This is what I am meant to do. What I am meant to be. Nothing more.
The sun's rays caught upon the curve of her cheek, and a tiny flicker of light dazzled, though none was there to witness it. Ignored, the solitary tear traveled its lonely path to the brink of her jaw, trembled briefly, then fell away.
