Common

Dark clouds rippled in the sky above, writhing in the brisk breeze that scoured the Commons, laden with the promise of sleet or snow. With the wind had come a drop in temperature, the air now unseasonably cold foro the Crossing. It reminded the Tinuvel girl of her homeland, and made her send a slightly disgruntled glance skyward, as if her irritation would be enough to send the inclement weather back where it had come from.

Her fascination with the sky didn't last long, however. There was plenty else to be done, and plenty of other horses about in the commons, frantically trying to find someone to go home with to escape the storm. Margarita took her time, perhaps overconfident in her own abilities to weather any storm, and strolled quietly along the margins of the territory. She knew enough from her last venture here with Aventuras that the Peak's border was nearby, which was mostly intentional on her part. Coming here at all - much less in fall - went directly against every warning Solomon had ever imparted to her, but the risk made her feel alive.

So many of her father's stories - of faraway lands and of other kings and queens - seemed far fetched that it didn't seem implausible to assume that his tales of how dangerous the Commons were would be equally exaggerated. Margarita had spent her whole life surrounded by her family, which conveyed a sense of invulnerability that she did not necessarily possess. Even her close call with that handsome sooty stranger had not shaken her; if anything, knowing that she could walk away unscathed from someone whose very presence made her shiver only made her more bold.

And so she did not shy away beneath the impending storm, did not hide or shrink, but stepped boldly out, bright eyes glittering at the prospect of a new challenge.