She was stretched against the castle, one arm shielding her face from the sunlight. Somehow she had managed a relaxed sprawl even though the concrete banks of the empty moat wedged her in. Windows like pinpricks let the light through in threads, wavering across her t-shirt and faded jeans, teasing the outlines of her arms and hands. Above her, the towers cast disproportionate shadows, appearing to loom high and away though they would reach only to her waist if she stood.
When she awoke the concrete beneath her was beginning to cool; its cobblestones had left their pattern imprinted on her back. She pressed an arm against the castle’s wall to stretch, bracing her foot against the ground. As she stood she leaned against the middle steeple, holding onto its scalloped edge for balance. After brushing the bits of dirt and leaves from her pants, her hands searched for, found, and patted her hair, rumpled from sleep. She had been dreaming of tiny horses, the pin-drop clatter of miniature hooves and the tossing of manes the size of her fingertips.
