Approaching Count Byron's castle,
horses' hooves sound in the distance.
He stands from his chair, where he'd been pondering
if he would attack the village that night
and rushes over to the window.
The moment he sets his eyes upon her,
he is overcome with emotion.

Her eyes.
His wives.
She is one of them.

So distracted by her visage,
he doesn't seem to notice her attire is not that of a lady
but of a hunter.
Nor does he notice the sword slung across her back.

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