It was a strange thing, seeing how the return of minor comforts could make a man so happy – and a woman too, at that. Penelope had been enjoying her freedom. She exclaimed with delight every time she saw the sun rise up high in the sky. She played with the few tiny little flowers that dared to grow in the valley, and she enjoyed every second of it.
Despite that, she too was glad to have a roof over her head at last. Vol didn't doubt that the rain had proved difficult for her. It would soak through her hair, and it would be hours before she could dry it again, with as much length as she had. Even after having it cut by the mage Francis, it had already grown back, long past her shoulders, falling down the middle of her back.
