Excerpt, maybe?

I'm not exactly sure when this scene will appear in my novel, only that it will. I know that the writing is suckish at the moment, it only being the first draft of a first draft. It will probably change quite drastically before things are over with, but I believe it will remain essentially the same scene.

I kind of just went with the flow on this one and wrote. It's from the novel I'm hoping isn't terrible that I'm working on right now, the one I recently decided to turn into a series (seeing as the synopsis alone was going to span several pages in Word).

Writing this scene has told me, however, that I'm incredibly rusty, especially at dialogue. Definitely need to work on some more prompts before I start outlining this baby. I'm thinking I might actually start the writing in about three weeks, so I'm excited :D

I also have my fingers crossed as I copy and paste this, seeing as the past four attempts (at least) have resulted in disaster. Seriously, this thing has taken me days to get up.

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The knight lightly shoved Muriel into a room that was so dark the window looked like a patch of stars on the wall. Without a word he left, nearly slamming the door behind him.

She felt a hand grab onto her shoulder to stop her from going any farther into the room and assumed, or rather hoped, that it was the Retriever.

“Follow me to my room. There isn't any light in your's.”

She recognized the voice. Muriel didn't know why she breathed a sigh of relief, but she did.

His hand found hers, and the Retriever led her straight on through the darkness for at least a few yards. “Wait here. I'll light the fire.”

Muriel listened as he fumbled around in the darkness. Tears were welling up in her eyes, and her face was hot. She had kept saying the entire way up to the room that she needed to go home...why hadn't anyone listened to her?

The room was suddenly illuminated with flickering, steadily growing light. The Retriever had found the fireplace.

From what little light there was Muriel could make out teal wallpaper, colored slightly yellow from the firelight. The fireplace was cream colored, and decorated with all sorts of carvings that she really wasn't in the mood to look at. As the light grew stronger she could see dark polished wooden floors and a bed in the corner of the room opposite the fireplace.

“Please, sit down...I'll be with you in just a moment.” the Retriever turned towards the window and lifted his hat, placed it on the windowsill.

Muriel didn't budge, her nails digging into her forearms as hot tears streamed down her cold face. “Can I just go home? Please?”

The Retriever was silent, his jaw tightly clenched. He leaned out the window, palms gripping the windowsill. “No...not once you're in.”

“But-”

He pushed himself up and crossed the room, taking her hand. “Please? Come and sit down.”

Muriel, tears now streaming freely down her face, finally complied.

The bedsheets were white and plain, making the bed look large and spacious, if not plain. She drew her knees up to her chest and sobbed, no longer caring to hold back.

“Come on, don't cry...please? There's nothing either one of us can do about it.” he laid his hand warily on her back, patting it gently.

Muriel would have pulled away from anyone else, but she could tell that he was a kind man and meant what he said. “Why...won't...you...let...me...leave?”

“Because you can only come in. You can't go out. Your kind, I mean...once you're in, you have to stay.” the Retriever explained. “Oh, please stop crying...this happens every time, I hate it!”

He leaned forward, his head in his hands.

Muriel wiped her eyes and sniffed thickly. “What do you mean? My kind? Every time?”

“Every one of you...you always cry.” he sounded exhausted, his voice muffled by his hands.

Muriel tugged at his shirt collar until he sat up. “You've...brought in more people like me before?”

“Yes...or rather, I used to.” the Retriever ran his hand through his hair. “Nowadays we can't get them to come anymore...especially when they're as old as you. Usually only the little ones can even see me calling to them.”

“I...I don't understand.” Muriel shook her head.

“You're not just here for the fun of it, um...” the Retriever paused.

“Muriel.”

“You're not just here for the fun of it, Muriel. I never would have taken you away from your world unless I had a reason. We need you here. To survive.”

He stood up and made his way to the door, stopping in the doorframe. “I know tonight's been rough. I'll talk about it more tomorrow, I promise. Your room is adjoined to mine. I'll sleep there tonight since it's this one is warmer becuase of the fire. We didn't have any in your fireplace because, well, quite frankly we didn't expect to have anyone come.”

He chuckled, so lightly that it was almost inaudible. “We had almost given up on getting anyone at all...you don't know how much we need you here, Muriel. It's been...such a long time.”

Muriel wiped another tear off of her cheek—she knew there was no way she was going to get them to stop flowing enough to get a decent night's sleep---and, when she saw that he hadn't moved yet, managed to keep her voice from shaking enough to ask, “What's your name? You know mine. I want to know your's.”

“I don't have one. They just call me The Retriever when we don't have one of you and The Guardian when we do.”

“Ah.”

Muriel reclined onto the bed and stared up at the blurred ceiling. “Nick, then.”

“What?” the Retriever asked, stopping in the middle of his slow retreat into the other room.

“Nick. That's what I'm naming you.”