Breakfast was mercifully swift, despite the tension being ever-present; mornings always dragged Lord Frank this way or that, and Kirsty imagined by how blindsided he always was that he hadn't expected the manor to require work to maintain itself. Either way, she had broken bread with lady Julia that morning and enjoyed it in peace, as her stepmother (or aunt, the lines were quite smeared) was less likely to interrogate her without Frank's eye. Kirsty couldn't tell if it was because Frank spurred her on or if she resented Frank's attention on Kirsty, but she didn't care either way; as soon as she'd downed her meat and toast Kirsty was out.

In the summer, there had been suitors to entertain, and Kirsty had no interest in letting her skills for entertaining wilt like flowers beneath the snow; embroidery was a bit delicate, but she'd found she enjoyed music and her father had provided a lovely lyre for her to play. Perhaps she would bring it out to the courtyard, and she could practice for the merchants and laborers in the absence of young men seeking a bride.

Yes, that sounded like an excellent way to spend the morning. Kirsty lifted the edge of her skirt from the ground so she could walk with a bit more hurry, eager to get to the hall where it was kept. In her hurry, she almost missed the noise of the crowd below; she was only stopped by an alarmed shout, and she looked in confusion to the courtyard below.

The first thing she saw was the trail of red spots; from there her eyes followed, and she found her knight, guiding his steed through the courtyard. The concern was not from him, but from everyone else; for the horse, which she had nearly shouted at the first time she saw it, appeared completely flayed from ear to ankle. Its bloody hooves punctuated each step it left behind, and as the knight led it towards the gate to ride, everyone had stopped to watch, still as death.

Kirsty hesitated, uncertain if she should greet him from above; certainly she knew he was no danger, or hoped that she knew, but it was no easy task to convince others when he was so vivid an image, as if straight from a mural of Hell. Instead her eyes fell on the blacksmith nearest, clutching his poker and tensing his shoulders.

"Good smith!" She called, and he looked up, as did many others, "How are you faring with mending the garden gate?" She felt the air relax more than saw it, but did not look away to see her knight's response. The smith, however, relaxed and waved up to her.

"Good morning, Lady Kirsty! The gate should be fixed by the day's end, just in time to install the works you asked about!" She smiled - she'd discovered a pair of charming cherubs in a storage room that would have been perfect near the gate, and looked forward to seeing them.

"Wonderful! I look forward to seeing your finished work!" The smith's smile widened, and she waved to him as she pulled away from the window, taking one more moment to follow the bloody trail. It disappeared past the manor gate - no doubt he was already riding the perimeter, watching for... danger, whatever that actually meant. Kirsty tried not to worry about it; instead she turned back to the hall, quite keen on getting her lyre. It seemed she'd have to manage the tension of his presence, and not just entertain the courtiers and workers. She could live with that, however strange; having a purpose felt good, gave her direction, especially in such a strange and directionless winter as this.

She didn't see him again until evening. The morning was spent playing and talking with those who came and went, asking questions about the world outside the walls; it was far too cold to travel, but in spring her father would take her to visit other manors and surrounding villages, and she missed the luxury. In the afternoon she tucked herself away in a small room of the manor and embroidered; she wasn't especially talented at it, but she liked the work and wanted to be left alone.

She missed girls her age; before the snowfall she had met with her father's friend's daughters, like the silent but observant Tiffany or the sharp Josephine. These last few weeks had been quiet and lonely; it was as if her father's departure signaled that of all of her companions, though their hearts were still beating.

Some terrified part of her wondered if he hadn't driven them away on purpose, so she would be alone. It was, on the surface, a fit of suspicion and nothing more... and yet she could not help but note the frustration her uncle showed the first time the knight walked her to her room.

Still, as Kirsty put away her embroidery and made her way to the dinner hall, it was not all bad. people still came and went, and she got to hear such stories that morning that she would have to write to her dear friends about. At least, even with the snow, she was sometimes lucky enough to get letters.

She reached a corner, and the knight was standing there as she turned. She nearly jumped out of her skin, hand to her chest.

"Sir knight-!"

"My lady," he said, "your uncle has taken quite a bit of drink." She heard the sound of shouting, and something shattering, somewhat muted through the walls. He did not flinch, though she did. "There is a quarrel with one of the messengers in the dining hall."

"I can hear that." She sighed as the din reached her ears, however muffled through the thick stone. "I suppose I should take dinner in my room, then."

"If that is what you wish." She paused, and contemplated; if he was busy arguing, his attention would not be on her. It was quite dark out, but she was certain she was in no danger if her knight was present...

"No," she said after a moment, "I should like to have dinner in the garden. Would you join me?"

"I cannot eat, my lady," he said, "But I shall stand guard. Shall I inform the kitchen staff, then?"

"Yes please," she said,, "I shall be there in fifteen minutes, as soon as I have a proper coat." He nodded, and was gone; Kirsty turned, head swimming with questions at the opportunity to ask them, and it did not occur to her that she ought to warn the kitchen until she was leaving her room some minutes later and heard a sharp cry of alarm through the floor.

She winced, and scurried down the hall, hoping that none would take notice as she slipped out into the cool of night.

LOOK WHO FOUND SOME MOTIVATION AND WROTE SOMETHING SHE LIKED! WHOO!

In all seriousness, thank you to everyone who's been patient with me and my sporadic upload schedule over the last however long. I can't make any promises that I'll be more consistent, but I will try my best to actually finish some things, eventually. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy during these long, difficult, confusing times. Stay kind, everyone.