There was nothing but darkness. The night had the light of the moon, but it was hidden somewhere deep, and the only source of light was the street light, which was lighting the palace garden where the group of maids was standing.
There were motionless statues bowing down with their hands on each side of their dress as if that were regular things. Despite the fact that they were all standing there in that position from the moment they arrived, none of them lost their composer and followed their equittee as if it were law. Their patience was admirable. They became the epitome of a slave, with no opinion or say in front of their master. What was motivating them to go this far? Why did none of them lose their cool in such a situation?
Suddenly, a clip clop sound began to emanate from the carriage in a location where silence was the permanent visitor, but it was frequently interrupted by guests.
