[Halbereth Diagona]

Sorell rode behind the talkative girls on his chesnut horse, Jerain. He had not been to sleep at all that night. He had wandered the moors, flying here and there, practising defence magic. He had listened in on Kalia and Thengise's conversation, and watched Collette in her nightmare. He had peched at the top of a tree and saw the shooting star; wished that he knew his parents. Oh yes, Kalia and Thengise's mothers were dead, and Kalia's father, they had sob stories to tell, but at least they had known what it was like to be held by their mother, to have their parents tuck them in at night, to feel that sense of security. Sorell had only been a baby when his parents died and left him alone in the world. He had been taken in by another family, but they were nothing like parents. Now, as he rode upon Jerain, he wished more than anything that he had at least known his parents. For it was better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.
Sorell shifted on the horse's back; he ached to be flying. Well...they would hardly miss him...they seemed to have forgotten he was there. Well, he was pretty quiet. He gave the side of his horse a quick kick with his boot, and enormous chesnut wings spread out from either side. He took of, with a gasp of delight, and flew above the company, enjoying the wind on his face and the feeling of being as high as the trees.