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( december 15th )
In the moat, the water was still, it saw no movement aside from the autumn winds blowing leaves onto its surface. They formed a lid that could hide many things, she thought, watching even the flow bent away from her window, high-up, unreachable.
The water cast a protective charm on the manor, it kept enemies out and fires in. Herself, it kept contained. All summer, she had been equally unloved as she had been unattractive. The two share a definition, she learned soon enough.
No longer was there a world awaiting her on the other side, neither going forward nor going back. She had lived this once and that must be a life, then, over. Now.
This season could only lead to winter.