Arina was sitting at the table quietly and gazing at the peach tree. More accurately, she was gazing at the person who was practicing sword beneath the tree. It was a magnificent sight, with the flowers fluttering down and the sharp and precise movement of Carlisle.
Arina tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. For once in a long time, her brain was not telling her to fly and escape. For once, she wanted to join the man below the tree. Those movements seemed oddly familiar. Without noticing, like she was drawn to him, she hopped down the chair she was sitting on. She skipped and hopped until she was close to the man below the tree.
