She sits alone in the forest, on a dark and stormy night, waiting. She has been waiting for so long, so very, very long. Every night she sits in the forest and waits. For what or whom does she wait for so loyally, night after night? She is waiting for someone, yet no one at all. The one she waits for is silent and swift. She never knows if he visits her at all, for she cannot see or feel him around her. But sometimes, just some times, she can feel that he is near. She doesn’t know what he looks like, smells like, and feels like, for she has never met him. Yet here she waits for him, night after night. No one understands why she waits so intently for someone she has never met and who never shows up. She will know when he is ready to reveal himself to her, she would tell them. Still, they did not believe her, tried to convince to return to the warmth and safety of the house. So many times she had refused to return; so many times she had escaped when they tried to lock her in. She always got out. Eventually they stopped trying; left her to wait in the cold for the unknown stranger she was so intent on meeting. Madness, they said, she wasn’t right in the head. Madder than a hatter.
The storm raged on, pelting her with its icy cold rain, yet she did not move from her spot on the grass beneath the old pine tree where she always waited. She was soaked to the bone, her dress clinging to her small frame, her sight blurred by thick gobs of water. But still she did not move from that spot, didn’t even flinch. He would come tonight, she was sure of it. She could feel him nearby, he had to come! She wanted to meet him. She wanted to see this stranger that haunted her every waking hour, ask him why he did so. Through the storm, she heard a faint sound. It was getting louder, and louder, and soon it was louder than the storm! The thundering sound of the hoof beats of a horse drowned out the storm. It was an unearthly sound, for it to overpower the sound of the storm. It was him! He was coming! Immediately she sprang up like a lithe rabbit, excitement coursing throughout her body. Calming herself, she gingerly walks out from under the tree, from what little protection it had offered.
The sound was getting louder, so loud she almost had to cover her ears it was so deafening. She did not. She did not want to look like she was afraid, lest he stop and turn away from her. For a long while, she couldn’t see anything, yet the horse’s gallop sounded as though it was right in front of her. Why was he taking so long? She closed her eyes. Perhaps he was toying with her yet again. She could not tell if she was crying; the cold rain ran down her cheeks and numbed her face. Suddenly, the noise stopped and she opened her eyes. And there in front of her, was a beautiful black stallion with a golden bridal, and a fine leather saddle with gold stirrups. Upon the stallion was a tall, cloaked figure, hood drawn over his head. Wordlessly, he reached out a black gloved hand to her. She took the hand, and with swift strength and gentleness, he pulled her on to the stallion, seated in front of him. They were oddly dry, the stallion and its rider, she was soaked- had been soaked, she was dry now, yet they were completely dry. She marvelled at the magic for a moment, before trying to peer under the hood of the rider. Silently, he put his gloved hand on her cheek (warm, it was so warm) and shook his head. She was not meant to see his face. He took up the reins, turned the stallion, and kicked him in to a gallop once more. Off they rode, deeper in to the forest, never to be heard from again. It should have frightened her you know, if she had thought to look back, for under the pine tree, she had left her body. A frozen, wet, empty shell.
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