The Mind's Sanctuary

The song of the battle growls, the baritone of the fallen, the loud roars of the dragons, the drops of blood that has been spilled for the honour, for the pride and enchanted minds of the brave souls, who are willing to give their lives for the sake of the Monarchy, for the sake of the King, even though many of them have not met him from eye to eye.

The mist is covering the area of the underwoods, when Harlequin stands, waiting for the male to respond. The enemy up on the trees is confused and on one moment, suddenly they yell in strange language and obviously try to retreat, but the sight has been blinded. Woman chuckles to herself, different varieties of what will they do next, rushing through her mind. Some arrows are shot randomly, and her ears catch the notes of the clicking armor, that is closing in around them. Some Crusaders have comed straight through the forest, which means one thing – their camps are not so far down and the two vampires in the middle of it. Even though the artificial fog, that has been created out of the plants, draining them, is covering they up, helping to hide better, Harlequin has understood by now, that the simple fact of coming straight into the area of one of the campsites of the Crusaders my not end well.“We need to get out of here!.” is all she could think of; and this is not her own safety that she is worried about, it is the man, who seems not to be in the perfect shape. By now, the scouts should have sent a messenger to their captains about the two intruders, for sure.

Hearing the males words about thanking and being grateful for the deed, she smirks with a small disgusted manner, that forms her lips into a strange form. Grabbing his arm, she starts to pull him towards the line of the forest, trying to avoid every possible knight and human, that was coming towards them. The mist entwines around her limbs, and try to taint the leather booted feet, that are finding the way from between the roots. Not letting go of the male, she speaks in his mind, with bitter tone.
“My name is Harlequin Black, Countess of Cote d’Azur, Marseilles. And we are going to get away from here as fast as possible. They are retreating and if you could just hold the fog as much, so we could get out of this stupid forest. It is only some miles, I am sure you can do it.” Sarcasm makes her tanned skin shine for a slight moment. The two daggers have started to spread their golden halo-roots on her arms and waist.

Harlequin stops, not letting go of the grasp and the small fingers that are like clamps around the male’s arm, yet something warm is running through her side. Shaking it off, she keeps moving towards the open field, that should cover the area between the forest and the castle of Bordeaux.

*

All these scents are driving Harlequin out of her mind, there are so many emotions at once, and the blood is starting to run over her stomack under the long leather coat, that is covering her small body, and the thin plate made out of some sort of strange metal. The blood is cold, and the adrenaline that rushes throug her body is carrying something else with it. It affects her in a manner, that the woman hits her right leg against one moss-grown stone. Her eyes spot a small socket, filled with half-rotten bird eggs and other insignificant sacrificial elements.
“Nice to meet you, Vaughn. Ironical, uh. Others are safely inbetween the walls of the castle, and we are out here playing hide and seek.”

Letting go of the male, she jumps backwards, turning herself and not letting him come closer, when he is reaching out for her. “I am alright, you shouldn’t worry about me.” she stubbornly speaks, trying to hold him away, but the fact is clear. An arrow, with black feathers, have hit her in the side. Her fingers close around it, when these two empty eyes look down to it and are drowning into the horror, that is infecting her mind not only with the enchanted poison, but fear of losing her life once more.

*

Vaughn’s smooth movements come with suprise to her, when through the fog, that has formed in her own mind, the words enter and circle within herself. The accent giving her some kind of thrills, but they die down rather fast. Keeping herself in silence, she is covered with the body of another one and the power that the man possesses makes her feel dizzy.
Harlequin’s small figure streatches her right hand under the coat and gasp for air, when the arrow in her flesh is moving along with them both. A sharp pain rushes like a wave through her, makeing her hold back the breathe, so she would not betray their spot.

When the human soldiers are out of sight, she feels drowsy. The more she moves, the more this something pulls her into the deep abyss of brown thickness, that woman is seeing in front of her eyes for some moments now. Stumbling over to a nearest tree, she falls on her knees, the hands hide into the fallen leaves and the murky green grass, the wave of poisonous feelings flush her over. Harlequin is throwing up, and the liquid has the same color as the grass around them. Collecting herself as much as possible, the woman leans against the treetrunk, wipes her mouth clean and looks towards the man: “My mare should be around here somewhere. I am able to call it, she is able to take us away from here. I…” She coughs heavily, trying to keep the voice down and as low as possible. The side of Harlequin’s, from where the arrow is coming out, is getting blooded and the scent of it is getting stronger, having an extra taste for it, that is certanly not her own.

*

A rather tiny figure beside all the mighty dragons that aid in this very battlefield flies over the skies, above the clouds. One bone white feather on each wing, shining back from the dark clouds that have covered the area. It is carrying a small charm – a silver key, made out of the air metal, the same kind of what Harlequin is wearing under her clothes and coat. The red ribbon tied around the claws of the bird, who is taking a smooth fall towards the castle. Flying in from the open window, he is crying out with his human male voice, elegant and worried: “Princess Zillah!. Mistress Harlequin is in danger, this foolish woman.” The last three words are mumbled more to itself. Landing on the candle chandelier, he lets the key drop, the key to the Book of Air, as a sign, that help is needed. “Her and Monsieur Vaughn, the Baron for Queen Luthiem are in the forest, over the field. They are surrounded by enemies and they are outnumbered. Besides that, thine help is needed. She is wounded.”

*

Harlequin just stared at him with strange manner, the consious of this serious and tight woman has slipped away and it seems to have been replaced with someone, who dosen’t clearly understand what is going on. She smiles to him, and the eyes gather golden hue. Two daggers from the Unknown Kingdom, from where the Books of Elements are, humming cry circles them in soft motion, then striking into the skies, so the Book of Sun would get their direction and lead not only the raven, but Princess herself to them.

“Poisoned?. Me?. Son, you must be hallucinating.” Woman chuckles, but the laugh evolves over to the heavy cough. Leaning against the male, her knees seem have to fleed and melted. When his skin touches against the wound and the arrow is broken into half, a breath is held back and suddenly she throws up again, but against his chest. Another wave of cough enters the area, and some of the scouts have spot them, over the noise that the woman is making. “That… kind… of…” she mumbles, moving her index finger in the air, giving away a feeling like she is being drunk, “…hurted. Ooooh, I am very…. very… very sorry about this, uncle.” Harlequin sticks the same finger into the liquid, that is falling over the baron’s chest. She is risen to the embrace of two strong arms, and blinking her eyes, the sky that reflects through the branches of the treetops make her feel like being on the sea.

*

Harlequin’s one hand is around monsieur de Winter’s neck, while the other is randomly playing with his hair. Fallen into her own little imaginary world, seems to give some sort of comfort to her. After every certain amount of minutes, her body is under the attack of the cramps, that are getting stronger. The breathing is getting heavier, yet her mind is running on a rather lazy route. “Uncle, thy are smelling after something bad.” Licking her lips, that are try, her high eyes turn to look at his face, when she suddenly starts to rub her own nose, then his. Back and forth, back and forth. From nose to nose.

Rye, the raven and companion to Harlequin Black, just speaks in Zillah’s mind: “Do not worry, my friend. I will get back to the castle, and warn some, that the serious poison wound is on the way. We trust thee.”He is turning and speeding up into the high skies, moving smoothly around the dragons, that are in the constant fight over the Crusaders.

When the large dragon, from whom Harlequin on other days would escape as soon as possible, shows up, her eyes stop on its scales and just stares. “Look!. Look!. A puppy!. But we need a big ball. V-E-R-Y big ball to play.” Her whole attention is on the dragon, but closes her eyes, when the cramps take over her body once more. Questions that are spoken to her by the male person, are for a deaf ear. “I am sorry, we don’t have big balls…. we…” mumbles woman through the illusions and pain.

*

Another woman had suddenly appeared from nowhere, and when she had placed her hands on Harlequin’s head, she opens her deep forestgreen eyes and stare. Slowly she rises her hand and brushes them away. “I wander how you managed to come through all these scouts, archers and camps deeper in the forest, Miss Lorraine…” growls Vaughn, still holding the ill woman between his strong embrace. “What secret tricks to you possess?. It would be useful for all of us to know.”

Looking at the woman, who came to aid them in need, Vaughn’s skin is covered in goosepumps for slight moment, but his nostrils are filled with the fresh perfume and clean shirt. Any vomit, or wein remains have been removed. Harlequin stares at them all, then notices the dragon once more and giggles, thinking how the big balls and a dragon game would be something perfect. When the other woman, have spoken once again, the man shakes his head and nodds towards Alexandria: “We need to get her out of here, the Spain men are everywhere. This is no place to play the games of blood and healing. Please, lets get her and us, out of here at once.” His tone carries rather sharp note.

The fog has complitely dissappeared by now and they stand on the open. The archers have gathered on the treetops, as well some footmen arrived, and ready to close them in a circle. Harlequin whimpers, when Vaughn moves towards the large and majestic dragon, its scales playing in the dim light, that forest is offering.

*

Harlequin opens her eyes, and places her own caramel skin-tanned hands on the other girls face, after she has pushed herself away from Vaughn. She looks deep into her eyes, still under the poison. “It dosen’t help. Only thing that can help is the Magic of Unknown Kingdom’s.” Stumbling backwards, takeing her steps a little bit faster, than she should, but when she feels her palms against the warm, and yet somewhat cold scales of the dragon, she titles her head back, the ebony curls falling over shoulders. Vaughn nods to Zillah, and takes steps towards the woman, who seems to have some of her mind back. Harlequin blinks her eyes, swallows heavily, controls the state of the hero, that have saved her life, then lets her gaze travel over the surroundings. The enemy is getting closer. She swallows her pride and fear over the fact, that she kind of understands, what creature is breathing behind her back. “If she trusts her life in the claws of this beast, then so I can do it aswell.” she thinks to herself, looking down to the ground. The poison is lurking back, pulling strong grasp around her blood once more. It is not as worse as the blood diease was, but it is something. She hopes, that it dosen’t affect the other girl, who obviously has some of it in herself now too. “Take me to the castle, Zillah. I give my life into your hands!” she talks on the awe of brightness in her friends mind, looks up to the dragon, pushes her self away, grabs Vaughn’s arm and makes him climb on the dragon, when she can feel the warmness of the fire closing in. She presses herself as close as possible against its neck, and closes her eyes, almost falling over, if the man wouldn’t be there and grab him. Nodding to the woman, Vaughn speaks: “Please, ride to the castle. The dragon will take us. Obviously the poison is still in the blood. We will meet you in Bordeaux.” Giving a sign, that Alexandria may rise into the air, Vaughn pulls Harlequin against himself and holds in strong embrace.

When they have risen in the air, and flying towards the castle, Harlequin’s lips move and she whispers a short prayer for the King and the Monarchy, which is carried by the wind over the heads of whoever may listen.:
“‘Lo, there do I see my King. ‘Lo, there do I see
my family, and my sisters, and my brothers.
‘Lo, there do I see
the line of the people
back to the begginning.
‘Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place amongst them.
In the halls of Monarchy
where the brave
may live
forever…”

*

Princess’ words echoe through the shell of her mind. “Dragamir…” she mumbles to herself, sharing the name and some of the information with Vaughn. The screams of the forest, that is decaying in the monstrous power of fire, make her heart bleed; but there is nothing she can do, even though the woman would love to save the Nature first than anything else in this world, but the duties in front of her new homelands and friends are more important. The new circle of evolution will begin, and she hopes that King will not leave it like it is.

The wind is whipping against her skin, as her head is leaning on the male’s shouder. Arms are tight around her, and the poison is striking more and more through it, yet the freshness of the air keeps her mind brighter than before. All these smells, scents, feelings and emotions, that have mixed up around the area, make her dizzy. A cough enters her mouth, and suddenly a short chortle. “You better watch out… who… you call… child.” Words come hard, and the wound in her side still continues to bleed. A trail of it is left in the air, when they ride through it, and it falls to acompany those, who have decased and walking the road of Hades. “You are a fool, Vau..ghn.”she presses through teeth, when sees the castle and its walls coming closer and closer. The shivers cover her body, and she gasps for some air, when another wave of the cramps swallows her last piece of energy. Closing her eyes, she falls into the net of the fever, falling in a state between sleep and coma.

Harlequin had a small scroll from the castle of Bordeaux, and her mind was called by the Book of Air, that was left into the safe walls of the Zillah’s castle, when she last time was visiting her dear friend. The intuition pulls towards the dangerous warning, that is pulsing in her blood strongly. She was walking on the shores of Marseilles, when the strong eagle flew over the waters, that were attacking the sand and her bare feet with such a beast like grace, that every time another wave was flushing against her skin, a shiver was made to run over the caramel tanned skin.
Gasping over the simple words, written out of hurry, she still is unsure, from whom exactly the letter came; yet, it pushed her to move quickly back to her own rooms, back some things, that the sanguirian knew, they will be needed. She sent the raven ahead, to let her servant Corin get one of the black mares ready. Her shiving hands traveled over the case, that was hidden in the bottom of the wooden ebony closet beside the east wall of her luxurious bedroom, under the double floor. Pulling the case out, her eyes looked around nervously, when the small elegant hands opened the cover and the forestgreen gaze played over the two long golden daggers with the symbols of two black mares in mysterious embrace, the necks touching against each other and the red-golden diamonds as small eyes shimmering on the dim light, that the candles let to fall on her shoulders and the shadows, that formed in hesitation and hurt, that Harlequin’s heart bares over the fact that someone’s home is attacked, to where she was invited in with open arms and treated as equal. She took the daggers out and slid these into black velvet sheaths, those two are weared on the hips of the pureblood, who looks so much like warm-blooded human.

The journey passed away and the shiver in her heart held her from falling apart. Miss Black’s pride is something that will not let her fall. She shall fight for the land, that saved her own life and gave her home, including friends and family. This is time for to show the respect and honor, to fight side by side with others. “Fight…” the thought of battle rushed through her mind, that repeats to stay away as far as possible. “No… I will not turn my back on this. I will do as much as I can, and if needed, will learn to fight during the battle. For the sake of the Monarchy and my own kind, I will do this. For the sake of my friends and home, I will put on my life at risk.”

She reaches the grounds of the forest, her heart jumps and flees, but an invisible hand catches it and holds close to its own. Following the trace of the eagle, she stops her mare, who’s sides are covered by the anxious foam, the wind brushes the hood away from her long black curls. Petting the neck of her companion, Harlequin looks around, incase she spots any kind of a scouts. There is some more miles to the castle, and she hopes that the faith will not leave her and she will make it in time.

*

The roar of the dragon, who’s large scaled back and wings are reflecting on the background of threating clouds, startles Harlequin’s mare as far as it stands on its two back legs and drops the woman on the ground. She hits her side against the roots, that are playing games of hiding with dump leaves and straddled bushes. The poor creature flees into the deeper leafage, that the forest is offering, two red demon-like eyes not daring to look back.

The heart of the woman – who now with the help of the tree, stands and rubbs her left side – speeds up. Covering her eyes and looking up, high in the skies, she suddenly pulls herself back against the large trunk of the oak, her hands resting on the tree. Feeling safe with the spirits of the forest backing her up, the silent noise falls on her like a curtain of danger. She swallows, as slowly and quietly as she can, not knowing if the enemy has spotted her or not. Crouching on the ground, the left hand reaches to one of the daggers, that have started to glow and hum in her mind. A smile, faint as dying butterfly, touches her full red lips with adrenaline-like emotion.

“Please, Gods, give me the strenght to come out of this alive… What…” These thoughts of this very little helper are cut with sharp tone by the simple fact, that the ancient trees are filled with archers. Holding her breath, different strategies – something that is like a newborn child to her – bunch itself against the skull of the sanguirians. “I need to find a way to eliminate them… somehow… one, two, five… there are seven of them that I can see… How?. Think, child, think.” Hiding all of her scent, freezing on one spot, only things that are moving – those deep, void eyes scanning the undergrowth, in case she has missed something or someone.

*

Another scent suddenly filled the forest, and something with it caught her nostrils. Grabbing her stomach, it growls quietly through the area, and some arrows are spunned towards her, getting caught into the thick treetrunk behind her. She could hear the spirit of it whimpering in a pain, that is unable to heard for human ears and for those, who haven’t practiced the art of Earth magic. The wind rises around her, carrying some mist and leaves. The open wound. The fear, mixed with confusion and anger. Blocking the feelings of everything else around her, the still dark marmor face of foregin woman turns towards the male, jumping up, moving fastly away from the whining arrows, which blue and red tailwheaters make the adrenaline run even faster than it was before.

Two daggers, one on each side of the black leather pants of the woman’s hips, glow in golden hue. The humming has spread outside of Miss Black’s head and now surrounds them with threatening way of defence. “Have you gone complitely insane… I had it all under control…” she growls, revealing her albino white fangs, that come out from her dark face with a sharp tone, cutting through the surroundings and faling mist. Moving closer to the male character, her movements are filled with hidden scars – falling into the net of situation, that is complitely new to her, she somehow must come out of this. Alone or not, but they must get away. Suddenly something occurs to her. There is a chance to use the fog for themselves. Not only getting away, but to spill some blood.

Searching for the male’s eyes, understanding that obviously the other one, who somehow thinks, that she is in a great danger and came to ruin the perfect plan – a piece, Harlequin hadn’t yet thought out yet. A smirk plays in these two eyes, that now gaze the male. The cries of the battlefiels echoes to them, even though they are several miles away from it, there still are some backup scouts lurking around here.“We will use this on our own advantage. I do not know about you, but this will be my first time to kill someone. Good practice, uh.” she speaks, entering the males mind with her low and elegant voice, a note of warning running through.

It was first time she saw reaction like that, the way the girl, who has comed with Medea’s friend, was acting. The language she speaks, no word is familiar to her ear, that have heard many different other ones on her long journeys. Harlequin wants to rise and go to her, but she is afriad that she would startle the poor girl even more. The man speaks with the same words, and young sanguirians eyes widen. This sounds so beautifully and gentle. Full of pride and unearthly notes. I would love to learn it…, a thought wanders through her and through the doll, that she is still holding tightly against her chest. Her eyes observe every movement that others are takeing, sitting still. The ground moves and squeeks under the feet of the beautiful girl, when she sits. Every sound makes shivers grow stronger under her spine. When Medea turned to her, smiling and waveing; a fright escapes through her limbs. The aura of the man and the other is too strong and she feels threatened.
Takeing heart into her own command, she pushes herself up from the bench. The breeze carries her long poison-black curls behind her back, exposeing the slim and tender tanned caramel-colored neck, which comes out well on the background of blue velvet jacket and ball gown. Still holding the doll against her chest, she slides over the ground and stops behind Medea, giving a polite half smirk, half smile to others, who she sees first time in her whole hundred years of damned life.Gazeing at them in silence, she feels like crying. A scream echoes through her mind. A cry of a male. Gabriel!., she whispers out loud and looks into the skies of night, hopeing to have any sign from him.
*
When Medea touched her shoulder through the beating rain, a loud shiver trembeled from beneath her spine, makeing her body shiver just for a bare moment. Harlequin has to swollow, to get her body under control. “Home,” she whispers, when is helped up. Narrow streams of water run along her long neck and face, washing away all the bitter emotions and stitched hopes.
Harlequin is sure, she dose not want to meet or even be in one castle with any other elven again. Better if they will not cross her path in any other way, though she can not be complitely sure, what the path of fate will bring with the storms of life. In a way she is glad that Medea’s friend and the other one left, even though it is rude and inpolite thought. The rain is refreshing, writing off not only her own heavy deeds, but also the remains of thick and impulsive aura.
The doll seems to have its own rythm of respiration, still held strongly against her chest, protected by the weak and mistaken soul. Perhaps is Cattleya the one, who gives needed shelter and desired company to sanguirian, who has lived over sixteen hundred years, though still feeling like a newborn.
“Home,” she repeats the word with more tender tone. “Have never thought that one word can mean so much for a sudden; after all these days and weeks, when the homesickness has been pushed away and hidden. Yes, perhaps this is the right time take a break from the everlasting traveling and quit chaseing thin air.” Harlequin stops and looks over to the other woman. “My two mares with belongings are behind the gate. I am going home.” It sounds like the last sentence is said with determination and relief.
*
Home. She has been on the road for so long; passing by small villages and not so bigger towns. The meaning of this concept occured to her as she came to Germany and was “adobted” into Luthiem’s family. And then again, they all came back to France. Being treatened as a ghost child back in the days, when she served her biological mother’s deeds and wishes without any question or hesitations, keeping her own wantings and secrets and thoughts to her own.
Harlequin nodds to Medea and starts to walk towards the gates. Suddenly she remembers and with as short moment the lighting strikes into the ground behind the entrance. Woman startles, looks at her friend and smiles, asking, but not stopping: “Did you left Jack to the bench, where we sat before?. I hope he is not afraid of the lighting, that seems to have eaten the whole sky…”
Reaching to the gates and walking through it, her two and black mares are beating their bodies against the tree near by, where to they are tied up. One small mule has ran away with many of her belongings. Her eyes travel over one seervant, Claude. Frank must have gone after the poor animal. When the horses’ eyes travel over their mistress, they calm down, yet their heels keep splitting the ground. The thundr makes them nervous and somewhat angry.
“My dears, huss.” Harlequin goes and reaches her hand towards one of the mares, but falls back on the ground, when it rises on his two back feet. One of her hands is still holding Cattleya, the doll that Medea made for her. Getting back on the feet, her summersky-blue dress is not so blue anymore at all, but it has gathered rather ugly tone. “My dear, I hope you have chariot to lend for me for the journey back to Alpes. My poor animals are too frightened to ride with them at all. My own was smashed by one rude man named Lief.” she asks, turning to the other woman, with worry and slight shame on her face.
*
Harlequin turns to look at the cubes in Medea’s hand, her eyes filled with purest suprise. As for now, woman is certain over her new friend’s power and this is rather different from what she is used to see.Frank comes back, through the small bushes near by, dragging the mule with cargo on its back, four narrow tracks behind them. The wind and beating rain deletes them rather fast, though; so the ground is back into the shape of smooth mud.When the creature is tied to a stronger tree, Harlequin reaches her doll to the servant, who takes it and starts to pack things, yet still keeping his distance from the two rebeling mares.
Golden eyed horse takes few meters backwards, when Medea has reached out her hand. The other one, with red eyes has already snapped one cube and is chewing it with blank motion in its eyes. Harlequin’s eyebrows rise an inch more, as she stares at them, then shrugs and turns to the other woman. “I am more than just suprised. I have witnessed things on my journey, that I thought I never will. And I haven’t even left the country… I don’t know what to offer, just to repay everything you have done for me, my friend.” She wipes her black and wet curly hair over her head and stares at the golden eyed mare, who just have taken the rest of the cubes and walked over to the mule.
When the lighting strikes again, the animals startle, but don’t take no other action. Though, their heads turn towards the other carriage that arrives to Villandry. Harlequin hears and senses someone familiar, but denies the intution and walks over the Jean, the other butler, just to help him with saddleing the horses.
“I must apologise, my dear grand dutchess, for being such a troublesome friend. It seems that it is my nature to get caught up in different kinds of adventure, good or bad, it dosen’t really matter.” She speaks with slight worry, caressing the mule’s neck, then looking back at Medea.
*
Woman smirks, when her ears catch Medea’s giggle, so humble and sweet. Her hands keep caressing the mare’s crest, long and skinny tanned fingers slideing through the wet and heavy waves, that fall over the elegant neck. Pressing her cheek against the animal’s, her eyes keep their path on other woman’s movements. An unknown feeling makes her prudent, but within few moments, she shrugs, pushing it somewhere dark and concentrates on the dutchess.
A smile forms over her crimson lips, then speaks, with hesitation on her chords:”Then we have something in common, and do not worry. I get down, but I rise back on my feet rather quick.”Seeing how the Cattleya’s creator dances in the falling water, she wishes to do the same, but denies the wish. There are a lot more important things to do at te very moment, than to dance in the middle of nowhere.
Standing in a games and notes of beating rain, suddenly Harlequin moves away from her spot, running to Medea and hugging her. Long arms wrap gently around the other one and a tear of joy and greatfullness falls on a lot paler cheek than her own, amongst with the silent words, that are meant only to the onther woman.”Your friendship will be held strongly amongst the most sacred pearls.”
Letting her go, Harlequin rushes back to her golden eyed horse, then takes a look back. Jean, the other servant helps her on the mare, and moves back to the other. She pushes, easily, her heels into the creatures sides, and it moves from its spot, beside Medea. It’s hoof is splitting the ground of the anxiety that is hanging on the air, simply because of the threatening lightning.”I will come to you once again, Medea. For now, though, I need to leave and travel back to South France and meet some, who I still haven’t thanked for saveing me from the grasp of Death. I pray for you and hold you with my thoughts.”She leans down, holding strongly to the reins with one hand. With other, woman kisses the top of her fingers, then presses it fairly on Medea’s forehead. She smiles softly, then stretches her back and shouts something in old language. The horse takes off, moving away from the place and the Garden. Harlequin looks back, and for a bare moment all the raindrops stop moving above the grand dutchess.
The mule and the other mare, who is carrying the two male servants, follow the trail of their mistress, gathering the speed rather fast. When they dissappear from the sight and into the storm, the time moves on, brakeing away from the frozen moment.