.. nothing.He had slept better than he could have imagined – he had expected nightmares, at the least. I guess all that practice at the archery butt... paid off, he mused as he slowly got dressed. It had been a strange experience, yet somehow so calming, standing next to someone and firing arrow after arrow, not even looking to see where he’d hit, trusting his aim and losing himself in the rhythm. It reminded him of cold mornings as a child when he’d escape outside to practice rather than listen. " Do you fly often, Char?" Not, as I said, unless absolutely necessary." Where are you going on this holiday that made you fly this time?" My father is English, the Viscount of Saxton. My mother is American. She's in America now for her father's, my grandfather's, funeral. I was in school in Paris and am on my way to join my mother." Where's the funeral?" In a little rural town in Illinois. Not a lot of people are acquainted with it." I'm from Illinois. What town are you talking about?". More

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