The trees that had kept them dry in every storm, offered shade in the heat. When there was no other rest to be found, they kept a welcoming patch of earth. That's where Amber would be on those long summer days, leaning on the tree, reading something good.
The shade bequeathed the grass a dappled hue, one that changed in the warm summer breeze. Together with the bright patches it made a picture, the branching pattern that is life, ever stretching onward and upward.
Within the remains of the castle is a dampness that does not belong to the air outside. Despite the courtyard being open to the elements the odour and humidity are quite different. The ground covering is sparse and those that grow are the shade-loving flora of broad leaf and juicy stem, interspersed with tufts of grass. It's a fine place to corral our horses overnight - freedom to roam without the option of running away. We sit, perspiring skin caressed by the cooler air, our bodies still feeling like they are travelling – rocking with the movement of our steads. The shade is a luxury after the summer heat. Tonight I will sleep like the king of this decrepit castle and execute my wrath on anyone intent on playing jester.
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