Hannah woke the next morning with still no signs that Slain MacKewan had returned. His solar was untouched, as was his bedchamber. Helice had her cleaning out the room off the kitchen after the morning meal. It stored various foods, the ones that had rotted needing to be discarded and room made ready for what late spring and summer blooms would have to offer them.

Her arm ached considerably after the chore, though it was from the accumulation of all the work she had been doing. Her arm would grow worse if she did not rest it, but there was no chance of that. She prayed it would not simply go limp, as it had done before. If it did, Helice might not feel her fit enough to remain working at the keep.

Once finished with the storeroom, Helice ordered Hannah to get busy in the Great Hall. She was to dust and scrub as she had done to other rooms.

Hannah gathered a bucket and filled it with water from the rain barrel outside the kitchen door. She grabbed several cloths from the stack on a chest in the kitchen, added a chunk of soap, the scent pleasing enough, and went to the Great Hall.

She rolled up her worn sleeves and went to the three windows covered with shabby and tattered tapestries and one by one tore them down, coughing as she did from the dust she had disturbed. Not that it was difficult, neglect having rotted them. It was a shame since they must have been beautiful at one time. But what was more of a shame was the light they had prevented from shining through the windows.

The sun was shining brightly and struck the windows, pouring light into the sizeable room and highlighting the plethora of dust motes dancing in the air. Hannah stood where the sun shined the brightest through the one window and let it bathe her face with its warmth, sneezing several times as she did.

At that very moment, it struck her… she was free, though for how long she did not know. But for now, she would enjoy it.

She smiled, turned, and got busy cleaning the Great Hall, using the solitude to think on what to do next. Her thoughts were always clearer when she was busy, allowing ideas to take root and grow. Some would blossom while others withered on the vine. She needed things to blossom, too much had withered of late.

She concentrated on one section of the Great Hall, knowing the task was too difficult to complete in one day. She dusted and swept before she got busy scrubbing the tables, benches, candelabras, anything that needed cleaning, and when Helice appeared with food for her, Hannah was pleased to see the look of surprise on her face, not that it lasted long. The stern woman wiped it off almost as fast as it had appeared.

“Eat,” Helice ordered, placing a board with bread and cheese on it on the table along with a full tankard.

“With your permission, I would like to go collect some heather to scent the Great Hall. I saw that it grows on the hill on the side of the keep.”

“After you eat, and do not dally, I want the Great Hall half-finished today,” Helice ordered.

Hannah smiled and nodded, and Helice shook her head and mumbled in her home language as she walked away. She wasted no time in eating the generous amount of food Helice had provided. She was familiar with hunger and not sure of her positon here, or anything for that matter, she had promised herself she would fill herself with food when given the chance.

Once done, she returned the wood board and tankard to the kitchen, grabbed a basket from the few stacked by the door and hurried outside to collect the heather.

Spring was strong in the air after a cold winter, though a chill continued to linger. She should have worn a cloak, if she had one. It had slipped her mind to grab the one by the kitchen door. If only she had her own, but then she would not be here if she was in possession of her cloak. She would be home.

No time to dwell. Do what you must.

Another of her mum’s many warnings rang clear in her head. She would pay it heed, but for now she would do something she had once so enjoyed doing with her mum. She would collect heather and perhaps some branches and make a wreath to place on the mantel. The lovely scent would be pleasing this evening while she sat and further thought on ideas beginning to take root.

Hannah found a spot where the sun beat down the strongest and went to work collecting heather. She lingered in the task, the warmth of the sun on her skin much more inviting than the darkness of the keep as well as the fresh scent of the abundant heather. She breathed deeply of the familiar musky fragrance with a light touch of flowery sweetness. Again a reminder that at the moment she was free.

The basket was nearly full when she reached for another sprig. Her hand cramped and she winced from the pain. She turned her head as she rubbed hard at her palm, trying to force the cramp away, and as she did her eyes caught sight of someone standing at the second window above the Great Hall… Slain MacKewan’s bedchamber.

She squeezed her eyes, straining to make out the figure and in the blink of an eye the person disappeared. Had it been Helice? Or had it been the elusive Slain MacKewan?

She glanced up at the empty window and smiled at the strangeness of the keep and how it served her well right now. She remained looking over the dark edifice while continuing to ease the cramp from her hand. It could be a lovely place with the thickets removed and life restored to the inside with laughter and love.

Love.

Would she ever know that?

She shook her head. There was no time for nonsense and something that would never be.

With the cramp in her hand finally gone, Hannah took the basket of heather into the Great Hall and began to place sprigs around the candelabras on the clean tables and along the mantel. She also threw several sprigs in the fire.

She returned to scrubbing a few more tables and benches, leaving the rest for tomorrow to finish. Finally done, she looked around pleased with what she had accomplished… except.

A thorny thicket had grown up along one of the windows and with the sky growing cloudy and the earlier breeze turning to a wind, a thicket branch was tapping against the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The thorny branch seemed to demand entrance.

She would not be able to sleep tonight if that continued. She hurried off through the passageway into the kitchen and out the lone door. She glanced around and not seeing what she was looking for, almost gave up. Then she spied it. She hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed a small hatchet and returned to the ladder that lay strangled by thickets and vines. She hacked away to free the ladder, thorns stabbing at her hands, refusing to release it.

Hannah was just as tenacious, refusing to give up. She chopped and chopped and chopped until finally a brilliant smile burst across her face.

She did it. She freed the ladder. Or had the chopping been like freeing herself?

She slipped the hatchet in her belt and dragged the ladder around to the other side of the keep and stopped once to push strands of her wild red hair that had broken free of its tie, out of her face. She had to plant the ladder nearly up against the window, behind the thickets thick beneath it.

She made sure the ladder was planted firmly before she climbed it. She had to hurry, dark storm clouds having gathered overhead while she had been busy getting the ladder, and the wind was growing ever stronger.

It took a climb to nearly the top rung to reach the annoying branch and once Hannah did, she began hacking away at it. She cheered when it finally fell to the ground, though it was a brief victory, since a clap of thunder had her drawing her shoulder up and wincing at the sound.

She dropped the hatchet to the ground and went to hurry down the ladder when her left arm and hand lost its strength. She should have expected it. It often happened awhile after her hand cramped. It hung nearly useless at her side. She would have to rely on her right hand to get her down.

She had stepped only a few rungs down when a strong wind whipped around her and she clung to the ladder with her one hand. Hannah felt the ladder sway before she felt the rung beneath her crack. She reached out with her good hand to grab onto a protruding stone just as the ladder gave way beneath her.

She tried desperately to force some strength into her limp arm, but it refused, continuing to hang useless at her side. Her grip was precarious. She would not be able to hold on much longer and when she fell, it would be the thickets that caught her.

Hannah glanced up to the heavens to beg for help, when she caught sight of a black figure with wings rapidly descending on her. And as her fingers slipped from the stone, and she thought she was surely falling to her death, the black figure consumed her along with darkness.