Myrtle Burrows walked into the small inn, taking in the scent of ale. She smiled and walked across towards the bar. She had been here not to long ago, sneaking away from her house to have some fun, she had done this again today.
As she pulled herself up onto a stool at the bar she ordered a small drink from the innkeeper, she had never really liked to drink much, but a little never mattered. She nodded her thanks and walked over to a small table by the fire. At the table she took out a small pad of paper, and flipped through the pages of sketches and paintings. She loved art, and would draw anything, today it was the fire place and mantle. Her long strokes rushed across the page and slowly formed the distinct silhouait of the fireplace. After looking over her drawing, Myrtle took a deep draught of her ale and went back to shetching the mantle.
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七転八起...
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