The Miller’s Daughter

“What about the Miller’s daughter?” a trembling voice squeaked from behind me.

What about the Miller’s daughter? Did he really just dare to question me? I stopped abruptly, and turned to face him. He stood before me, a lanky, skinny boy with a mop of reddish brown hair that flopped over his eyes and covered half his face until he was nothing but lips and freckles. He was but a pesky mouse in my presence, so small that even my shadow towered over him. I leaned down, pushing my nose so close to his nose that they were just shy of touching, mere millimeters of air between us.

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