Introduction

Long before dawn comes creeping, I manage to fall prey to tiredness and I fall asleep, crawled by the fire, on the large sofa. I have pulled the blanket all the way here along with most of the pillows and made myself a comfortable nest. A dreamless sleep that proved to be restless and more or less useless at this point. Fatigue has gripped both my body and my mind and I wake up dizzy and uneasy.

The room is silent and by the way the coals look, the fire has gone out long ago. But I was not feeling cold yet. As I crawl out of the bed and make my way to the windows, I'm not surprised to find the sky completely Grey, with thick clouds covering and hiding the sun that's not eager to show its face just yet. The landscape is hurdled under a thick coat of snow and the clouds are still shedding big and fluffy snowflakes. By the looks of it, the room I am in is quite high above the ground and I can't help but try to open the window.

But the mechanism is so old and hasn't been opened in long enough for it to be stuck and it doesn't budge under my force. After a few moments of struggle I give up and press both my hands against the cold glass. I feel hot and I might have a fever at this point, because the coldness of the glass against my skin is so very welcomed that I can't help but let out a soft content sigh.

Long moments pass and I slowly pull away from the window to look around once more. Was there a way to get out and enjoy the snowy day? Did I have shoes? Or even a coat?

A childish part of me insists that I walk out barefoot and careless, but I know better than to give in to such childish thoughts. I was in a stranger's home and by the looks of it I was already a burden. I could not have them look around for a bratty woman who decides to walk barefoot in the snow, could I?

My little search around the room proves ineficient, because I find neither shoes or a coat fit for me. I sink back into my little comfortable nest on the couch and pull my legs up, resting my chin on top of my knees and wrapping my arms around them, keeping my legs covered with the nightgown I was wearing.

I don't want to close my eyes because I am afraid that the vivid memories of the past events will spring in my mind, or that maybe this silence and appearing peacefulness was ephemere and from the corners, Father Casimir will reach out and grab me again.

I don't want to be awake either, because this is boring to hell and back. There is nothing interesting within this very room. The wardrobe was filled with dresses and clothes that seemed to be long to a woman, the drawers were all locked with a hidden key. There was nothing for me to do.

/ I could always try the door - / I keep thinking and repeating to myself, but whatever I'll find behind the door scares me.

Will I find the kind red eyed stranger or the one with judgemental caramel eyes? One prospect was more appealing than the other, but something, most likely a deeply rooted anxiety, pinned me to the comfortable and familiar couch, leaving me unable to get up.

A soft knock on the door pull my attention away from the mess that my mind was. My heart starts hammering and suddenly I feel trapped! My head turns in a snap towards the end he door and I understand that I am nothing but a hen ready to be slaughtered-

The door opens before I get the chance to answer and I want to hide and never come out!

With slow steps, the red eyed stranger steps forward, his hands holding a black wooden tray filled with all sorts of foods and snacks. There is a faint smile on his face that barely reaches his eyes and I swear the red color of his eyes has darkened from the last time I saw him.

He hesitates to step further after only a couple of steps taken within the room, his eyes pinned on the bed. Brows furrow and I'm not sure he realized i did not escape, but merely found another, more comfortable spot in the room.

I shift lightly and get up, and only them, he sees me. For a brief second he seems to let out a relieved sigh before his steps turn towards me and he approaches me slowly, setting the wooden tray on the coffee table in front of the fire.

Something inside of me wants to ignore him and focus on the plenty goods he had brought me, but I can't peel my eyes away from his face. The angles of his face are sharp and absolutely perfect. His skin is flawless and something any woman would kill to have. There is no blemish, no scar from the pox, no stray hair from his nealtht shaped eyebrows, no pore visible. It feels like I am looking at a damn marble statue -

His eyes cut to me and he watches me under his brows. His eyes are hooded with a dark instinct of a hunting beast and the way his pupil react, and they blow up to the point i feel a sudden jolt of fear and I am urged to take a step back. But there is no place to step back to, my calves hit the couch and I fall right back on it, with a surprised yelp.

"It's rude to stare." he speaks, eyes moving away from me, back to the table where he starts to slowly put everything in front of me.

"It's also rude to enter without being invited in." I comment under my breath, following the strange elegant and flowy movement of his arm as he lays the numerous plates and bowls on the table.

"Quite is, isn't it?" he jokes and I'm not sure if he smiles or his frown deepens.

"I guess we are even then." I breathe in deeply, trying to calm my unsteady heart and breathing.

"Mhm-" the stranyer grunts in acknowledgement of my words, but not necessarily agreement.

I scoot a little closer to the table and take in the plentyness of the delicious looking food that I was offered. Pastries and fruits and gems and omlletes and bacon and sausages and cheese platters and nuts and dried fruits and - WHO COULD EAT ALL THIS FOR ONE MEAL?!

I stare at them in awe and then up at the man who straightens himself and walks towards the fireplace and starts building up another fire.

I hesitate to start eating and he seems to be catching on quite soon, because he pauses and turns his head towards me.

"Not hungry?"

My lips press together and I feel my cheeks flush. He is watching me with the corner of his eyes and I can't help but feel almost naked and half frustrated about it.

"Is this all for me?" I ask, fidgeting with my thumbs in my lap.

"Of course." he answers calmly as if it was obvious.

"I thought you'd join me-" I whisper, staring down at the food in front of me.

He pauses and seems to ponder on my words. After he tosses more firewood into the fireplace and lights them up, he walks back to me and takes a seat on the armchair beside the couch.

I feel utterly uncomfortable and uneasy and improper and - what's even happening? I feel even worse than I did back home when father would-

The clatter of the little spoon against the porcelain plate pulls me out of my thoughts before I sink too deep in them.

The man had scooped a bunch of sour cherry jam onto a place and dipped the tip of one of the small croissant before he took a large bite out of it. The way he moved was mesmerizing, but somehow it seemed out of place. As if he had to think hard on how to do these things...

"I have never gotten your name -" I find myself speaking before I can even think.

He pauses, mid chew and to my surprise he simply swallows as of he had not just stuffed his mouth.

"That's because I never introduced myself -"