Where are the feathers?

She moved lazily across the room, her feet light upon the bare stone floor. The windows were made of heavy iron bars and simply patterned stained glass. She smiled as she opened them easily. Her father’s gardener was a kind old man who checked over her rooms to keep everything in good order, as a favor to her. She loved the kind old man like a grandfather with his twinkling blue eyes and great fluffy grey and white beard. 1

Laughing as the cool night air swept past her into her well lit room, she ran the last few paces to the edge of the balcony and looked out into the night. She loved the way the castle sat upon the high edge of the cliffs, as if an extension of the great ledge of dirt and stone that extended down the coast. Bits and pieces of moonlight scrambled down through the heavy clouds overhead to dance upon the gently rolling waters far below. She closed her eyes and leaned back, raising her arms overhead. Such winds up above the high cliffs felt magnificent after being cooped up in the castle all day. If she thought hard enough she could imagine she was a bird, flying free out over the waters. Choosing each moment for its eternity, she giggled, remembering that, though it would be exhilarating, she must not climb up onto the ledge. It was an awfully long drop to the rocky tidelines below. When she finally opened her eyes she was greeted by a face staring at her, nose almost touching hers.2

Needless to say she was quite surprised and demonstrated so by leaping back with a gasp of surprise and tripping on the hem of her evening gown. Despite having passed by nearly eighteen seasons now she was still a little girl to her father and mother, though the servants seemed to treat enough like an adult. She did herself some sense of justice, apart from the tripping and falling, by not screaming. Instead, she simply sat there on the balcony and stared. He wasn’t old by any means, but she could tell he was no older than she, not a child, nor an adult. He was perched on the balcony railing, sitting on his heels.3

His dark hair was a mess of windblown tangles framing a face that seemed, wild, but she did not understand why she thought his face as so. In the end, before she decided that it was time to speak, she noticed his eyes. They were an odd blue, not solid in color, but definitely blue, grey almost. If she had not been so taken by surprise she would have felt a bit self conscious about staring at someone as she was, especially a boy. But in the end all was fair as he was staring back at her, albeit with an expression of confusion and curiosity. The decision to speak was eventually his as this most unordinary night would have it.4

“Excuse me, but are you alright?”5

She found that her initial pause was frustrating. She was a clever girl in her own mind and did not particulalry like appearing so startled. She also found that she liked his voice, like a winding river through the mountains, deeper than believed whence you chanced to step into it. Shaking her head, she tried to stand.6

“Yes, yes I’m-“ she was cut off in midspeech by the hem of her evening gown still underfoot.7

He made no noise as he was instantly at her side, his hand holding gently onto her arm.8

“You’ll forgive me if I startled you. But you looked so happy and I couldn’t help but watch.”9

She found herself searching for something to say yet again. Confounded boy! He was very odd and she decided to tell him just then.10

“Its very rude to go sticking your face up close to someone else’s like that,” she shook her head and pulled her arm from his grip,” and you shouldn't have...have..."11

He stepped back towards the rail with an easy grace, smiling as he turned for a moment to look at the moonlight dancing on the gently rolling waters.12

"How did you get up here?" she finally managed as the truth of the boy's sudden appearance came rushing up at her all at once.13

He shrugged and grinned mischievously.14

"I flew..."