It had been a long week. Tartarus, it had been a long month. She deserved this. So there she sat, in a room that was a near perfect replica of the first floor of her old treehouse, the Golden Oaks Library. She opened the book, flipping the pages to get to one of the colourful bookmarks to pick up where she had left off. It was an oldie but a goodie, one her favourite books of all time. She had read it cover to cover more times than she could remember, and knew it by rote. But somehow, reading it again helped clear her head and more than once helped her work through a conundrum or problem she'd been struggling with. The castle was great – the past six years living in it had helped it feel more like a home than she ever thought it could become. She had a lot of happy memories here. She still, however, longed for her old home, still missed the warm feeling of simply being surrounded by wood and the smell of books. It was comforting, familiar, relaxing.