by Fran Lynghaug (Author)

A cloudy fog rose abruptly out of the ground about fifty feet in front of them. A magnificently handsome figure in its midst gradually took shape. He didn't send his thoughts to them the same way Adam and Eve talked with their thoughts, but used spoken verbiage. "My greetings to you..." That was as far as he got. Raphael and Uriel drew their swords from sheaths that were hidden in a fold of their tunics, readying for a charge. They obviously knew this person and braced for battle. For the first time, Eve experienced confusion. She didn't know what it was like to flee. She just knew she had to leave quickly. She lifted into the sky and when she had attained a good height, she darted toward the palace. She was aware of someone at her side. It was Uriel. He didn't speak to her thoughts, but his expression was grim.

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