Thud. The sound of wings permeate the sky, powerful feathers pump paper light bodies into motion. Thud. Clothes fall effortless onto carpet, cotton fabric sighing in relief from the release of sweat dampened skin. Thud. Your heart has turned heavy and pupils dilate as you approach, an unspoken confession that you know I do not care to hear. Thud. The decorated gates close shut, my mind iron and locked once again. Thud. Your pulse accelerates, your lips utter the syllables that float on the air like petals. Thud. The twang from my bow resonates, the heat from the arrows path tells me it has found its unsuspecting mark. Thud. Feathers are quickly coated in dust, I walk away from the figure on the ground.