She darted out of her room silently.
Grabbing the hood of her heavy fur cloak, she threw it over and held it close to her face, covering it. She glided down the winding steps and towards the enormous doors. She gestured for the guards to let her out and they hesitantly unbolted them.
Almost jogging towards the stables, she grabbed the straddle and threw it on a brown mare. The brown mare neighed defiantly as she hoisted herself up. It kicked its hoofs but she kicked the mare sharply, making it charge out of the stables, neighing.
The journey towards her destination was not difficult. She had been here countless of times. But it has been a very long time since she last visited. The mare neighed and kicked, refusing to enter into the darker parts of the forest. When she forced the horse again, it kicked up high, dangerously tipping her over. She huffed angrily, throwing her legs over, pushing herself off the horse. She tied the mare to a nearby tree, patted its head before giving it an apple. As troublesome as the mare can be, the animal has brought her to her destination after all.
She straightened herself, adjusted her cloak and started to walk down the narrow dead lane that leads her to her destination. The leaves and twigs creaked beneath her weight. She could hear owls hooting and the lonely howls of a wolf. Her heart thumped quicker as the sight of the dingy hut appeared. Smoke was piping out of its chimney and a soft orange candlelight was glowing brightly from the inside. She reached forwards and knocked.
The odd-shaped door of the hut opened noisily. An old woman dressed shabbily with a dirty, greasy dress greeted her.
“You should oil your door Merida,” she scoffed at the older woman. The old woman grinned, baring her toothless mouth. Merida was badly hunched-back, her white hair was kept in a messy bun with long nails hanging over her withered hands. She looked at her visitor and clicked her tongue.
“Always the one to comment aren’t ye?!” Merida hissed as she teetered over a tiny cauldron at the corner of the hut.
She followed Merida and cringed up her nose as she took a sniff out of the cauldron. The liquid in it was boiling. Thick, murky bubbles were reluctantly popping as Merida stirred it.
“Is the potion ready?” she asked.
“Tut, tut, of course it is, dearie,” Merida replied, taking a small glass container from her filthy shelf above the fireplace. She blew off the dust before scooping up the thick potion, pouring it into the glass. She located a cork and capped it.
“Where is me gold?!” Merida demanded.
She laughed haughtily at the old woman, “I always keep my promise Merida.” She dug out the pieces of gold and flung them on the table.
“Although what would you do with the gold is questionable,” she added.
Merida ignored her comment, counting the gold greedily. When she was done, Merida looked up and nodded her approval.
“That potion has a side effect if ye use it frequently. I hope ye know what ye doing old friend,” Merida muttered.
She grabbed the glass from Merida’s withered hands and tucked it into her pouch. She rolled her eyes at the old woman and proceeded to throw the hood to the back, revealing her face.
“Of course I know what I’m doing!”
She walked towards the door and paused before leaving the old woman.
“I am Mary de Bohun, The Dowager Queen of England. I always know what I’m doing.”
“Are you all packed, my lady?” asked John, after their last sparring session.
