I am sitting next to the fire trying to get warm and nibbling on the single loaf of bread I took from my family's kitchen when I made my escape tonight. I knew I had to get out of that house when father said he had agreed to marry me to that awful Lord Sinclair. he was 76, fat as a hog, and smelled of sweat and pee. I slowly slide a few mushrooms I found on the road on to a handy stick and place them over the fire to toast with a small chunk of bread. The cold wind roars around me causing my flames to dance and me to shiver and move closer to it. I look into the darkness when I hear a stick snap and call out "Hello is someone out there? I have nothing to interest you."<br/>(No that is fine)