Howl's Twisted Castle

24: Starlight

I wiped the mirror with the corner of my sleeve to make sure what I was seeing was real and not just remnants of my dream. As my lips curved into a smile, I no longer saw the ancient woman who had lost all faith in ever going home. It wasn't an accurate reflection of my former self though, not entirely. My hair still betrayed the effects of the curse, but where it was dull before, it had taken on a healthy sheen.

But this had me wondering, what if it meant other parts of me hadn't changed back?

Quickly, I pulled the hem of my dress, exposing my thighs in a decidedly unladylike manner. To my relief, my legs looked fuller now and much less like a sack of loose skin attached to my bones. I hiked up my sleeves as far as they would go, scrutinizing my skin. The dark spots no longer covered the tops of my hands, and my skin was considerably less transparent. Apart from the usual cuts and scrapes from sewing, my hands looked very much like my own once again. It was as if new life was breathed into every part of me overnight.

Dunbeath truly was a magical place!

But this got me to thinking. It was no wonder Maggie looked so flustered around me just now, I would have been startled as well if I had come upstairs to wake an elderly lady only to find a woman less than half her age sleeping in the bed. Even though my hair was still as white as ever, there was little argument to be made in my defence. I look like a completely different person.

I leaned against the windowsill and chewed on the inside of my cheek as I watched the busy townsfolk below, wondering how I was going to explain this to her.

Should I explain to her that it was magic? 

Would she even believe me if I told her I was the same person? 

It seemed like a fruitless effort to worry about the innkeeper when there was another person more important than her waiting for me downstairs at this very moment. 

Howl.

Would he recognize me. . . Or rather, did I want him to recognize me? How was I going to explain everything to him? After all, I made it very clear that last time we spoke when I was still myself that I didn't want anything to do with him. That had to make me a hypocrite, didn't it? I slept in his home, ate his food willingly, and took advantage of his offer to help me. How was I going to explain this all to him? If I told him about the Witch of the Waste and how she wanted me to take his heart, he would never forgive me. Of that, I was entirely sure.

After cleaning up the second spill, I dipped a brush into the basin and combed the knots out of my hair, giving my nerves a chance to relax. I had gotten used to the straw-like feel my hair had taken on, but as I smoothed my hands through it, I was surprised that it had a feel to it that reminded me of silk fabric. I braided it as best I could, but the glossy texture of my hair made it impossible for it to keep its shape. I tucked the ribbon in my pocket, choosing to leave it down, which was an oddly foreign concept to me. I never liked my hair down. 

As I adjusted my bodice and skirt, there was one detail I had picked up from last night that I felt I needed to fix. It didn't escape my notice that Maggie and the other women all wore dresses that closely resembled mine. In fact, they were made of similar homespun wool with a wide variety of colours and weaves. This is where I found the error in my outfit. The brooch that came with my dress was pinned at my waist, which I quickly discovered was the wrong way to wear it. Instead, all of the local townsfolk, whether man or woman, wore their brooches over their heart. 

I unfastened the brooch from my waist to get a better look at it. The metal was tarnished, but as I rubbed it with the corner of my dress, it glistened in the light. There was a winged creature that formed a circle around an arrangement of flowers. From the tiny details of its scales to the curls of smoke carved at its snout, there was no doubt that the brooch displayed a dragon. Little flecks of paint remained on bits of the brooch, giving it an aged effect. I gathered that this was meant to be a crest, and the delicate details on it seemed to indicate just that. As I refastened the brooch over my heart, mimicking the way the townsfolk wore theirs, I began to understand why Howl wanted me to wear this. This was a part of the culture of the town, and by dressing according to their customs, we blended in rather well.