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Chani sighed. Arrakis had gone to talk to Locke. She was now eyeing Mistral from the corner of her eye. The scythe on her wrist glowed faintly. She watched her face contort, feeling kinship. She felt she knew somehow what Mistral was going through, of meaningful dreams and confusing feelings. She sat on the sofa across from the one she lay on, sitting and staring and waiting for Deiter to return. She missed him again already! He'd only been gone for a minute!
Maverick was wandering the dirt paths of Ravenwood in shameful contemplation. Nobody else was out, and that was for the best. The shadows were his only comfort. He kept his black eyes to his boots, not wanting to make eye contact with anybody. He'd be surprised if anybody knew he'd hung around, the way he'd been lurking. Suddenly he bumped into somebody, stumbling back nimbly and instinctively shielding his face, as if afraid whoever he'd bumped into would hit him. The face was unfamiliar. It was an old, equally contemplative moon elf. He straightened, clearing his throat and trying to look questioning. "Who are you?"
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