<div align="center"><strong>Annie Weaver</strong></div><br/>When Stumbling into the open glade of the manors front yard I felt my knees give way, after lying staring at the sky catching my breath for a moment I saw to take off my boots.<br/><br/>Manicured grass ?<br/><br/>"Best not question blessings"  I mused to myself, a habit I formed after being so often out-casted by others at school.<br/><br/>After letting the grass massage my feet I stood, stretched, rubbed my sword-arm's shoulder that had become thoroughly sore from slicing through dense foliage and pondered my surroundings.<br/><br/>"Huh ? What is a<em>house </em>the size of this doing here ?"<br/>