They’re weakened by their dependence on oxygen, and forever will be. I stay outside, needing the freedom despite the gradually increasing heat. It penetrates the sparkling scales on my clothes and layers itself on my skin. Some ways ahead, a few soldiers are busy readying the carriage for the trip to White Plains. Where it is, I don't know. The houses around us are silent, and I wonder if everyone is at the market now, or still asleep. I never knew anyone well, but now, I feel even more like a stranger, foreign to the rows and rows of homes. A shadow falls to my right and my pulse instantly quickens. I turn my head to acknowledge the Queen’s presence. “Did you ever want to know your mother?” She asks. The thoughtfulness is still on her face, softening her features. Making her seem human. It’s hard not to fall for the innocence in her voice. But then I see the pain in Slate's eyes, the anger.
