"There is a castle on the cloud, I like to go there in my sleep." Cosette sighed, and watched her breath transpire in the cold winter air. One second ago, it had seemed a cloud, full of life, vividness, then it was gone with the wind. She had hoped that it would linger on for one extra moment, that time would freeze, and then, the cloud would join all the others as her castle took place before her eyes. She imagined that the cloud would become another part of a beautiful resplendent palace waiting for her. She picked up the broom again, and slowly started sweeping. In her beautiful innocent imagination, her lifeless locks turned intoa silky gold cascade, the wool cap turned into a tiara. Suddenly, she heard a strange sound, like the creaking of a door. Terror rose in her heart. Was it Thenardier? In haste, the poor little girl attempted to hide her doll made of a white rag that she had managed to sneak from the kitchen, and tried to straighten the already worn edges of her threadbare grey dress, but instead she fell over into the snow. Her bare arms against the pounds of whiteness made her tremble, and a cold tear slid down her dirty cheek. She looked down at her red hands. There was a little drop of blood gathered on it. Not knowing what to do, Cosette scrunched into a ball, and huddled against the corner of the fence. Then, she heard another sound.
Eponine glanced around in the shabby inn, the candlelights flickering in her hands. There was nothing but darkness there, and yet she had just heard a sound, a child, singing a sweet song of castles and clouds. Childhood daydreams are always so grand and pure, but so unreachable. Dreams were only dreams, after all. Sometimes she let her mind wander, but the sound of noises always brought her back to reality. The floor squeaked as she walked towards the door, and pushed it open gently, but the sound of the creaking door still alarmed the child. Eponine set the candles down on a table near to her, and then she stepped out of the inn. She didn't know how deep the snow was, and her skin directly against it felt like a thousand sharp daggers piercing her. Not used to the sensation at all, Eponine jumped back, and hastily stepped into the inn. Then she warmed herself by the candle, and went into her room. She made herself content by lying in bed with the covers up, and looking at a beautiful velvet bonnet with a huge gossamer ribbon, and a puffy lace dress with gold and silver edges. A few days ago, her mother had given it to her. Then, Colette (or was it Cosette?) had the nerve to say that it was hers! She had walked away immediately, angry. She gained courage again, and hesitantly prepared to go outside, not before putting on little leather boots. She passed an old notebook on the way out, and glanced at it. It was just her dad calculating prices. She added in tiny handwriting at the bottom: three percent for sleeping with the windows shut! Her dad would be proud of her. This time, Eponine carefully went through the snow. She expected to see a beautiful fairy, or princess. Not...