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She is small, with flowing brown hair, dressed in light silken pants and tunic that slither over her form. Her features are almost elfin- a narrow, sharp face; pixie-ish waist and hips; thin, agile limbs; small pert breasts. A small, thin staff rests near her hand. She speaks: "From the southern islands where the sun rests at noon, I have come."At the western side of the table, a tanned, lean woman stands. She is red of hair and looks as old as her blonde counterpart. She is also energetic, but hers is the energy of the challenge, a sharp grin that threatens all comers seeking to test her. She is of average height, fit and lean but not slender. She wears sheer, vine woven cloth that scarcely covers her hips and ass and her large, tanned bust. From a belt that hangs lopsidedly around her narrow waist swings a long sword. She speaks: "From the western forests, where the sun sets at evening, I have come."Finally, at the northern side of the table, the last woman rises. She is solidly. ’ ‘No name?’ ‘He wouldn’t tell me.’ ‘But you think it was him.’ ‘Jake, I just told you that I don’t remember! Honestly, you’re worse than a damn psychological test.’ The door opened and a grey-haired gentleman strode in, followed by the nurse. ‘All right, Mr. Whiting. Time to leave.’ ‘I just got here!’ ‘Sorry. I have to examine the patient. You can come back later.’ Sammi gave herself over to the doctor and slipped back asleep after the medical professionals left. She was tired and her head was still aching so she gave in to the sleepiness that claimed her, comfortable in the thought that uniformed guards had been posted outside her room for her safety. Though it was unspoken, everyone knew that the ‘accident’ had been delivered by Mayor Chambliss. It was several hours later when the soft, insistent touch of a set of fingertips tugged her from her sleep and she opened her eyes to the warmth of Thorne’s orbs. He touched the purpled bruise on her cheek and gingerly traced her split.
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