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When she’d arrived, it seemed large. But once she paced the room a hundred times, it grew smaller until she couldn’t stand it any longer.Marianne was kind, it seemed. Big-boned, maternal, and gentle. But he seemed gentle too, and hadn’t she learned quickly. She didn’t trust anything that came from him.Caitlin hadn’t seen him since that last evening, nor seen anyone other than the woman that brought her meals and tended to her needs.A bathroom was attached to the suite, a luxury only the council’s building had. Everyone else used outhouses on their property. They worked well enough, and the town was too small to have any sort of public plumbing.When she could stand without feeling lightheaded, Caitlin took a long, hot shower. Stepping out, she toweled herself dry and returned to the suite, only to find a set of riding clothes laid out on the bed. Marianne must have been in, as the room still smelled like flowers.Was this a request, she wondered, rubbing the fabric between her fingers,. "What?? ... But it's cold…" Dorothy protested and suddenly placed her arms to cover herself. "Aye but you want the booze don't you? So who's willing to pay?" the man laughed. "I am," one man said and threw a quarter over a desk. He had a badly shaven beard and a dirty hair and he gazed at Dorothy with a mad light in his eyes that made her shiver and want to run. Soon other people began giving quarters and shortly after the money was ready. And Dorothy did her part; she removed her clothes for short period of time, took the liquor and quickly got dressed before she was laughed out of the pub.Bastards. She hated them. She hated them all. Suddenly however, she stopped. She was sure she had heard a small voice. Suddenly a small dog puppy came behind trashcans and gave her a lick on her left cheek. She giggled. The fur of the dog was beautifully white much like the cold snow that surrounded her. "I'm Dorothy. Let's be friends,“ she spoke to it. "Why don't you be friends with me too?" a.
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