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Description
The abandoned castle stood grim and menacing. Olsana’s little figure slipped inside through the narrow window. The rogue winced as her bare feet found freezingly cold stone floor. She always went after loot barefoot as ditching shoes was good for stealth and agility; moreover, she just liked the freedom of going without restriction of footwear, the feeling of ground underneath her feet. However, at that moment Olsana was quick to regret that decision as cold seeped into her defenseless feet.

She shrugged it off and looked around. She had to get to the castle’s treasury. The wizard was an old fool (no wonder King Vole got him arrested), but he managed to make a good fortune over the years that he had served the crown. And all those treasures still lay in his deserted castle. Probably, the King had set up some guard against the marauders, but it was nothing that Olsana had not seen in her life. The girl sneaked along the corridor, dimly lit by torchlights, which hinted at someone’s presence in the castle. “No matter” she thought. “They’ll never see me”

It was right at that moment when a sudden searing pain pierced her left foot. She barely managed to suppress her cry. “What is that?” she thought, her mind racing in agony. Olsana looked at the floor and saw shards of broken glass. Some of them were stuck vertically between the rough stones of the paved floor. Her foot must have found one of them. With a groan she sank to the floor and crawled to the shadow near the corridor wall. Her foot was throbbing with pain resonating in her entire body. With trepidation, she examined her wounded foot, her heart sinking at the sight of a big piece of glass embedded in her sole. The wound looked nasty. Tears formed in her eyes; the pain was unbearable.

Desperation set in as iron clanged in the distance, heavy footsteps announcing an approaching presence. The rogue's breath caught in her throat, and she knew escape was futile with the deep wound hindering her movements. Hiding became her only recourse. She pressed her hand tighter against her mouth, stifling any whimper that threatened to escape as the door creaked open, and the ominous steps drew nearer.

Description
The abandoned castle stood grim and menacing. Olsana’s little figure slipped inside through the narrow window. The rogue winced as her bare feet found freezingly cold stone floor. She always went after loot barefoot as ditching shoes was good for stealth and agility; moreover, she just liked the freedom of going without restriction of footwear, the feeling of ground underneath her feet. However, at that moment Olsana was quick to regret that decision as cold seeped into her defenseless feet.

She shrugged it off and looked around. She had to get to the castle’s treasury. The wizard was an old fool (no wonder King Vole got him arrested), but he managed to make a good fortune over the years that he had served the crown. And all those treasures still lay in his deserted castle. Probably, the King had set up some guard against the marauders, but it was nothing that Olsana had not seen in her life. The girl sneaked along the corridor, dimly lit by torchlights, which hinted at someone’s presence in the castle. “No matter” she thought. “They’ll never see me”

It was right at that moment when a sudden searing pain pierced her left foot. She barely managed to suppress her cry. “What is that?” she thought, her mind racing in agony. Olsana looked at the floor and saw shards of broken glass. Some of them were stuck vertically between the rough stones of the paved floor. Her foot must have found one of them. With a groan she sank to the floor and crawled to the shadow near the corridor wall. Her foot was throbbing with pain resonating in her entire body. With trepidation, she examined her wounded foot, her heart sinking at the sight of a big piece of glass embedded in her sole. The wound looked nasty. Tears formed in her eyes; the pain was unbearable.

Desperation set in as iron clanged in the distance, heavy footsteps announcing an approaching presence. The rogue's breath caught in her throat, and she knew escape was futile with the deep wound hindering her movements. Hiding became her only recourse. She pressed her hand tighter against her mouth, stifling any whimper that threatened to escape as the door creaked open, and the ominous steps drew nearer.