At some point, Scorpius has fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. Only when the midday sun shines through the open window, enveloping his body in heat, does he awaken. Blinking, he looks to the side, where a light breeze is moving the curtains, and listens to the rustle of the treetops carried over from the small grove. It smells of freshly cut grass, and the sense of comfort that fills Scorpius" limbs with a pleasant heaviness is as unfamiliar to him as it is welcome.