He hesitated behind the leg of a chair. The wind was in the wrong direction, and however much he twitched his nose, he could not catch the woman's scent. She floated from one window to another opening curtains and shutters and the windows too. The air stirred and sweetened. He could even catch a faint whiff of yesterday's marketplace.
He followed the shadows to the fireplace. Climbing up to the mantel, he hid behind a picture frame and peered at the woman as she restlessly studied her surroundings. Disappointed that she showed no sign of preparing any food he yet lingered, watching as she went into the kitchen and returned with a large mug. She drew near the fireplace, and skeptically considered the dusty kettle dangling over the cold ashes.
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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