Short and to the point. I felt like it would have been inappropriate to add any more to the chapter, it just didnt flow right, so here you go.
Through the windows of a small bedroom in the back of a tavern, a soft voice could be heard humming a melancholy melody. Outside the window, which featured minute amounts of dust, and remained unclean in no small part to the privacy the thin veil provided, birds perched soundlessly in the trees that surround the room. It was as if they knew their songs of spring would seem a cacophony in comparison to the lovely tune the girl brought forth from her chest.
The peaceful music was coming from Samantha, who was joyfully weaving a needle and thread through some green cloth. The fabric, a deep green that in nighttime would appear black, laid a small huddled mass on her hips. A trickle of sweat traversed its way down the side of her brow, as another fell down the crook of her neck. The room was uncomfortably warm, but her work was private, and as such it could not be afforded to open windows to the prying eyes of the bored, gazing townspeople.
"Almost finished, then to try it on," she conversed to herself. Aside the thick wooden chair laid a tall pair of boots. The boots appeared plain, aside from the many buckles used to secure one's feet. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that the shape of the high boots matched the sewing maiden's calves perfectly, and that the soles of the boots had inch heels on them, giving them a distinctively feminine appearance.
Giving company to the twin boots were two small garments that had previously been finished. The first had been a standard white cotton blouse, to which she had removed two generous portions below and above the bust. The blouse would fit tight around the chest of its creator, and offer ample viewing of the young barmaid's reasonable chest and well-maintained stomach. Below it was a modified cloak in the same color as the cloth. The cloak had the requisite hood adorning its back, but had been tailored to fit her frame perfectly, as had the sleeves. Several buttons adorned the middle, which would constrict the cloak to her body, and yet expose the areas that her blouse did not cover.
"Finally, it is complete." Samantha held up the article, which turned out to be an ankle-length skirt. The skirt was unremarkable, save for two large sections on each side that had been removed, and then sewn extremely loosely by crossing leather laces. To compliment her slightly indecent slop, the skirt would offer a large view of the sides of her toned legs, the top of the slit coming mid-thigh.
It had taken her a great deal of time to fabricate her new attire. She had created it with the premise of it being her traveling clothes. Samantha had long planned to leave the village, first it had been to get a change of surroundings, but now her goal was to achieve notoriety and greatness in some manner.
Dusk had nearly shrouded the scattered cottages of the Weatherby. The young barmaid had her hair tied messily behind her, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her body. She had finished her sewing and made her next destination to be the meadow where she trained her archery. The path to the meadow was a bitter one, as it took her through the ruins of the Aldridge family and to a small valley below it, away from the village.
Samantha tread the path that she had navigated thousands of times before. It would have been impossible to make it through the mess of overgrown grass and the tangle of weeds, had it not been for her lithe frame taking the same path everyday. Her tiny feet had bore into the land a trail upon which no grass would grow. She knew every step of the trail by heart. Every rock, tree, and piece of foliage was memorized by her. Which is why, to Samantha's immense surprise, she found the Aldridge property to be completely restored.
"What is this," she asked herself in slight fear. It was not possible for such wreckage to have been remedied since the last night she walked the path, which was the previous evening. 'It's completely restored…like it never happened. It's just like…he was never taken from me.'
Her mind darted to the note, which she had so foolishly forgotten in her mind. She gripped the small pendant around her neck, the pendant which bore the crest of his family. It seemed almost too good to be true, that Marcus might truly be alive and had returned to the place of his ancestors. Bitter tears could not be fought back as she fell to her knees, weeping. Samantha could not believe that it could be true. The note, Samson's story, the pendant, a revived house as if by magic…these were not the things of coincidence, she rationalized.
Her eyes hardly dried, she sprinted to the house.
Blue eyes snapped open and shone with determination. 'Someone is here, making haste.' He leapt from the bed and with a wave of his hand, his white shirt, sandy vest; muddy brown trousers and even darker brown boots were summoned onto their master's body. A slight click was heard as his belt attached. Leather forearm gauntlets flew onto his hands, along with gloves. In a matter of a second, the unprepared man had been dressed and ran to the door.
"Leave this place at once," he yelled, magnifying his voice with his magic.
The sprinting girl had heard those words and almost frozen. It was a man's voice. She did not head the warning, and chose to keep her pace, leaping over the small garden fence before bursting through the door.
Samantha felt herself propelled backwards by an invisible force, a magical one no doubt. She lumped any phenomena she had no explanation for as some manner of sorcery. Having righted her in the air and landed neatly on one knee. Her emotional mind gave her only one reason for this mysteriousness.
' Marcus never locked his door, it can't be him. He would have remembered, he would remember me, us, this isn't him.' The same sentence kept repeating, driving her quickly to rage and madness.
"You bastard, he's supposed to come back. Get out here NOW!"
Despite the obvious flaws in the rationale, her emotions got the better of her. Samantha sprinted to the building once more and threw all of what she felt into a punch to the door.
Marcus was not ten feet from the door when he saw it splinter and fly off the hinges towards him. With the instinct of his training, he dodged it and reached his hand behind him. The runic blade that lay dormant by his bed now soared into his hand.
'Nothing except magic could have destroyed my barrier and the door, is it one of his?' The mage's mind raced and he ran out the broken doorway with his sword in both hand, ready at his right hip for a diagonal slash that would kill his target instantly.
Samantha had jumped back after her punch, her shock at her strength and the suspicion of how she had just retreated thirty yards in one leap did not register. Instead, she saw a man in light colored clothes rush out towards her. Her left hand instinctively readied her bow and her right hand retrieved an arrow, aligned it, and drew the string back.
The mage readied his sword for the kill as he dashed low to the ground. Marcus gripped the hilt tightly and swung upwards with all his might.
She watched as the man moved too quickly for her to prepare her arrow fully. Her skills were not good enough to beat this man, and now she feared she would die before seeing him again. She let a single tear drop as she accepted her fate.
Her eyes were closed in anguish, prepared for death. But the killing blow did not land. She opened an eye to see the man's face very close to hers. His sword rested against the grass, its hilt being held haphazardly by him. For once she took a good look at him. The man looked to be about four years older than her, with slightly curled blonde hair and impossibly deep blue eyes. The handsome man before her rang with familiarity.
Marcus had halted his attack the moment he saw the young girl. Petite, lithe, with brown hair and enchanting green eyes, for there to be such a beautiful girl in this town, it could be only one girl.
"Samantha.." he uttered weakly, dropping his sword. The girl before him widened her eyes in shock and dropped her bow, the arrow firing harmlessly into the dirt. "Is it you?"
"Marcus!" She had yelled at the top of her lungs, throwing herself on him and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into an inescapable embrace.
The pair glowed as the last sparse rays of the golden sun shone on them, before it finally set behind the trees.