Author's Note: Just a rather mindless drabble I wrote on a sleepless night (onto my phone, no less) that doesn't really lead anywhere, as of yet, at least. And, a note to all of the readers of Ballad. No, I have not forgotten about you after this half-year. The problem? The laptop with all of the files on it is basically dead until I get the new charge cord. My sincere apologies. I'm doing my best to track down another charge cord, it's just proving difficult.
-XOX, Mintermist
Wind
The draught was a blistering cold menace as it pried its way beneath the doorjamb, whistling its haunting cry like a banshee off of the moors. Jane Turnkey shivered beneath her well-worn russet quilt, her vibrant viridian eyes luminous within the enshrouding darkness. With a shudder, she twisted onto her side beneath the linen eiderdown, hugging her knees to her chest for warmth; coiling tendrils of frigid air snaked through the gaps in her tower room's stone walls, reaching for her with a glacial tenderness.
Wistfully, she imagined herself to be in Dragon's cave, curled against his warm scales high within the snowy peaks. Even as the snowflakes spiralled their minuets and gavottes over Kippernium, Dragon's flame filled the cavern with the balmy memory of lazy summer days… And, oh what she would exchange for that warmth.
The crackle of the tiny flame in the grate had long ago ceased, as had the musical clatter from Jester's rooms below. Soaring dreams hung heavily upon Pepper's lids in the kitchens, and deep, steady breaths escaped Smithy's lips in the servant's quarters. Softly, the very verve of the castle had fallen dormant under the enchantment uttered by the nighttime snowfall, the ever-constant hum of activity dreaming softly.
The wind was Jane's sole companion, as her sleepless mind struggled with her restless heart.