Pollyanna cursed when she made it to the top of the tower where she had assumed Eory was kept. The whole tower, and indeed, the room where he had been kept, was empty. “Damn! He’s gone!”

She supposed she should have guessed he had been moved since there were no knights guarding the building, but she also figured it couldn't hurt to check the tower thoroughly, anyway.

Pollyanna wondered where they might have moved him as she explored his room for any clues--she hoped he hadn’t been moved to the castle.

She checked all the drawers and was shocked to find many pictures of herself in them. They were incredibly well drawn and accurate, and yet somehow flattering. She wasn’t attractive by any means at her age, but her charge--at least, she assumed Eory had drawn the pictures--had somehow made her look pretty. In most of the pictures, she was in powerful poses--holding her blade high or leaping--and she was usually depicted fighting beasts like dragons or griffins; some of which she had fought in real life, and some were merely fanciful tales.

Pollyanna pocketed a drawing of herself. He made me look so pretty.

Pollyanna pulled out all drawers, rummaged through them, checked in the cracks of the sofa and under the all furniture, and eventually found a piece of paper with vital information.

Leaving to the ball with Kori! I never have to see this room again! My good behavior has been rewarded.

She grinned. He had signed the date he had first been locked in the tower to the current date. “He can’t be too far ahead! He only left yesterday!”

Pollyanna made her way down the many stairs of the tower after that, and returned to the ground floor of the building. She had left the door open and stepped outside.

-------She was panting a little from her descent down the tower, and she growled in frustration at having only just missed her charge. In an attempt to calm her raging heart, she took a moment to watch snow gently fall from the sky. “That waif will pay for making me climb such a ridiculously tall tower.”

After a moment of leaning on the door frame, she jolted from the tower and ran like a woman possessed down the gravelly path ahead of her.

She was in a bad mood. 

Leaves, snow, and gravel crunched under her feet as she went. She was not as fast as the average humanoid, indeed, she was much faster--inhumanly fast, to be precise. 

She sped along the idyllic, forested path until night fell, and then she reluctantly made camp in the foliage next to the path. She gathered twigs and wood for a fire and sat down next to it with a contented sigh.

She had niggling desires of late. Her mind kept turning to Fjorn.

She stretched her legs out in front of her with her mind going every direction that she wished it wouldn’t go.

I got what I wanted in life, I need nothing else. There isn’t a creature alive, whether it be humans like myself, fairies, waifs, gamayuns, elves, dwarves, or anyone else that haven’t heard my name. She tried to convince herself.

But, as she curled up in front of the fire listlessly, her womb felt achingly empty--reminding her if her rash decisions--and the space next to her felt chillingly empty. She put her arm over it, wishing someone were there.