97I finished that half chapter and replaced it with this one.
"Damn it all, damn them all to hell!" cried Serrah furiously. Her hair was in wild disarray and her dress was crumpled. She sat alone on a wooden stool within His chamber out on the balcony, which had faeries, deer, various animals and mystical creatures carved into it.
Serrah had not seen a glimpse of Michael after that encounter earlier that morning, and the thing that made her upset was that she smelled like him but it was the fact that she enjoyed that night was what really riled her up. She glanced down at her hands clasped in the thick woolen dress she was wearing. Her garment was a beautiful dress, not her own, but she would have been proud to wear it. On a fabric so thick you would not have thought that there would be so delicate of embroidery to grace it.
The days were growing cold she realized as she shivered. She looked up and studied where she was in the daytime. It was different, without the nighttime and candles and the lights from inside, this place did not posses the glowing, otherworldly essence as it did when she broke in. She climbed up and stood on the bench. She felt her heart falter slightly with her chest, for she could barely see the tips of those magnificent trees of Sherwood and only then did she realize how far she was from the place that was so familiar to her. Back at her cottage, the forest was only a step away to enfold her within its comfort. Here, she could only look. "Why must you be so far away?" She sighed wistfully.
It was near dusk, and she was missing supper purposely. Walking around within the gardens she clasped her hands together to keep them warm, she knew she should have brought her cloak. It was becoming cold much too quick. Soon winter would shower the land with her cold frost then snow, trapping her within this castle. Serrah knew that she must find the secret compartment filled with the wealth enough to pay for King Richard's ransom before the first snowfall. These roses are rather pretty, it is a pity that they will soon wilt under Winter's frozen hands, thought Serrah.
"Damn it Robin. The lass should have been back by now," said the softly spoken John. Robin raised his head toward John,
"You are blaming me then?"
"Nay, but the lad is sick with worry for her. He seems to have grown older then what he really is. 'Tis been two evenings since we have seen of her. 'Tis been too long, Robin, too long."
"I know, and I worry, but there is naught we can do but to wait. Tell your boy to not go rushing into the wolve's den, t'would be a tragedy if he did."
Serrah slithered past Michael's room and into the hall like a wraith. Hanging like a shadow in a nook in the hall, she silently folded up her dress until it reached her knees. This way there would be no rustle or a fall as the result of a quick escape, even though she would be somewhat mortified if someone caught her in this predicament. Serrah glided along the stone wall with no trail of dust anywhere from the previous night's ball. Each stone was of a different pattern and shades of color and the ceiling towered high above her. Each hallway led to another chain of maze like hallways and each seemed identical except for the small indentation on the head of each doorway. At the end of this hall there was a staircase on one end and an adjoining hall on the other. The sparse light coming from small windows made the room feel eerie and sinister. There was a crevice with a window every three or four rooms, and for each she peered closely two to three times if any latch or protruding object that would lead to a secret opening. Every few seconds while she was inspecting the hall she would turn around and listen closely to hear if any object was amiss, or if a servant or houseguest would trudge up the stairs, afraid that that she would be caught with her skirts up to her knees. Hearing a faint click she hurriedly let loose her skirt and fixed her mussed hair and then only to await the owner of that indistinct click. She stood there for moment's indiscretion but after what seemed like an eternity she realized that the danger was gone and hiked her skirts back up to her knees to begin searching again.
'Twas near noon when she had finally stopped, unrolled her skirts, and headed down the flight of stairs that she believed to be toward the direction of the kitchens. Feeling downhearted and hungry she wandered into very grand hall decorated with armor and banners. Looking at each of the distinct armor she felt young, very young, in this hall. She walked back and forth, her hunger forgotten at the moment, to touch here and there except for the banners, which reached the ceiling, almost. Each of the armor was a different size and distinct shape. Certain ones had a protrusion at the crown or a sheild where the neck was. She closely looked at around thirty individuals of armor before she realized that there were probably a hundred more. After spending a few more quiet moments more in the hall, her stomach's gurgling brought her back to the present and reminded her with an uncomfortable emptiness that she needed food.
It was some forty of fifty tiring minutes later before she took a few lucky turns to bring her at the main hall. Panting, she stopped to rest her sore legs from climbing up and down what seemed like hundred of thousands flights of stairs. She teetered precariously before moving once again to position her feet solidly on the ground. From there she contemplated about how she would handle this situation. She could either go through the front doors, which were a few steps to her left or continue searching for the dreaded kitchens. In fear of becoming lost once again and wander the halls for the rest of her lifetime, she decided to go out. Serrah shoved open a crack in the door and slipped out.
Rows and rows of huts did she pass by and none of them were looking very well off. In fact, they were far from it. There were roofs that needed to be thatched and walls and doors that needed to be mended. The people's clothes were poorly made as well, their clothes were similar to wheaten sacks and none but the black smith had reasonable clothes on. Serrah, needing to have conversation walked into the smithy.
Sauntering right in front of the resting black smith she let out a hello. IN turn the black smith greeted her by a nod of his head. Serrah felt the coldness in the man's manner and realized that the people probably did not like outsiders very much, nor nobles; even though Serrah wasn't one, but they didn't know that. With that Serrah started warming up the to the burly black smith.
Soon Serrah and the black smith, by the name of Will, were speaking as if they were old friends. Her stomach rudely interrupted them. With a smirk Will asked if Serrah would join him and his family for supper. She looked once again at the huts that these people called home and felt unsure and a bit ashamed that these people were showing such hospitality to her when they had barely anything to give. After some prodding and insisting, he finally got Serrah to accept.