And the Soul Moved on.

Chapter 1

Lora sat in quite a peculiar position on her bed, neck and spine bent with her legs tangled in disarray. Her book was just so enthralling she couldn't put it down, let alone move. A particularly painful pang bit at her back. Alright, maybe now she would move. Her house was cold, just like the crumbling walls of her home that tried their best to keep out the even colder cold of Vermont- this meant many blankets dug out from the back of the linen closet. One that her grandmother had knit for her Aunt was draped over her hair like a headscarf, but Lora felt it to be more similar to the coronet the lovely Queen Tabitha was wearing in her book. Yet Lora would never fancy herself with such a man as Duke Frederick, though he did have quite a charming smile.

"Lora, honey!" her mother called from down the stairs, "Dinner!"

Lora voiced her acknowledgement, forcing her fingers to pick up her sticky note slash bookmark and stick it in the book.

Crawling from her cocoon of warmth, she straightened her fuzzy socks and tamped her copper hair down, patting herself like a child.

As she stood, an odd chill found its way through her body. Beneath her socks, up her legs, traveling to her chest. She felt her breath catch; she must have stood up too quickly. instinctually she looked to her window-- she had a habit of forgetting whether or not she had opened it, yet it was shut firmly against the afternoon breeze. Lora stood for a moment, watching how the light found its way through to the walls of her room, how oddly it seemed to glow. Something in her chest tightened, finally released. She breathed in deeply as she removed herself from her trance to turn from the autumn glow.

Old wooden floorboards creaked as she made her way to the equally squeaky door that didn't quite fit its frame; the cold never gave the wood a chance to sit right. Shuffling to the staircase, she gripped the cold banister so as not to slip, and nearly lost it all at the last step as she was tackled.

"Chicken, please!"

She had named her husky chicken, because, well, he liked chicken. And, well, she was seven when they had adopted him from the shelter. He was old now, nearly eleven, yet his spirit never faltered. It kept a spark in Lora.

After surviving the onslaught of dog, Lora made her way right, to the kitchen, as floorboards groaned in protest. 

"Hey honey." her mother planted a kiss on her forehead, but she had to reach up on her tiptoes to achieve it.

"Hey." Lora mumbled. Her mind was still in the palace of Queen Tabitha, and even the smell wafting from her mother's beloved crockpot couldn't deter her mind. Her mother sat down at the table situated in front of the bay windows, laptop screen still blinding as numbers and evaluations flitted across the device.

"Mom, it's saturday. You shouldn't be working." Lora said worriedly as she filled a paper plate with roast beef and mashed potatoes. She skipped the roasted carrots that would turn to warm mush if she chewed them, then sat down across from her mother in the only other chair. That, too, groaned as she plopped down and curled her legs in front of her.

"I'm just cleaning up some evals. Carrots, Lora." she said, without even looking from her laptop, as she lifted a forkful of beef.

"Carrots are not meant to be soft." Lora argued, but her mother only lifted her eyes from the computer, giving that motherly stare-down, and Lora harrumphed before stretching her limbs and making her way back to the pot. On her way back she reached into the rusted white fridge and grabbed the worcestershire sauce, struggling to sound its syllables out in her mind.

"Any new applications?" her mother asked, the graying bun knotted on the top of her head tipping precariously to the side.

"MSU." Lora stated in between mouthfuls of potatoes, anxious to return to her book.