Zephyr flew in from the south. She was in a happy mood. She had convinced five families to come in tomorrow at the castle for selection. Zephyr knew Storm was only going to pick one or two, but at least it gave her an option. She flew in and alighted on a balcony, stepping gracefully inside with a nod from a guard. Smoothly, she made her way up a few stairwells (why have stairs when they can fly?) and into the Monarche’s room. The guards admitted her. “Anything new?” She asked, then informed Storm of her accomplishment.