The bridge adjoining the castle's two main bodies spans the tributary that becomes the Great Lake. After waking and dressing in morning's muted silence, Noel heads there to smoke. He learned quickly that it's a nice place to do so, and who would be up at five in the morning to catch him?

It's cold as a witch's tit once he arrives, but home's cold too. With dry palms Noel covers the cigarette's end against a walking breeze to let it catch. It crackles like good bread. The sun teases the horizon, the sky dark still but lightening.

Ia flutters into consciousness as she’s lowered gently onto the grass. The noise confounds her without penetrating her understanding: a roar wrenches the very air and she shivers, but she doesn’t scream.

“—if you have to.”

Ia attempts to hoist herself upward on her left arm. Immediate pain; she whimpers. Body leadened, she shifts over slowly and levers into a seated position with her right.

Wind whispers over the grass. Shouts are swallowed by the sky. Students scream and irritate the faint ringing she hears. There’s a white sheet in the middle of the grass, a little ways beyond. Ia peers blearily at it. What an odd thing to see in the middle of the grass.