"Aye. Tis Knighton Hall of Ravenskeep," she says, addressing it with it's title. The house was well built and beautiful in her mind, all white cream with dark brown accents, surrounded by the rolling feilds and then edged with forest.

It showed it's age, but it went gracefully to repair and to repainting, keeping it's grace. It's wide open windows at the top were welcoming, and the stable to it's right side gave easy access to traveler and traveling alike.

"I wonder if my father is about or in town." Her brow wrinkled slightly.