[This week, when those newly departed from Château Ambregris arrive at who-knows-where and open their eyes to a run-down garden, it'll look a bit more pristine than usual (not that they know that, having been tossed here like so much flotsam by their peers); there's still a light coating of snow left on the ground, though it's no longer actively falling.

The sky is mostly overcast, though there are some brighter cracks where the sun is trying to break through. Moreover -- if you sniff, you might catch the scent of flowers. Here and there amid the wrecked statues and rickety trellises, buds are beginning to open even on the tail-end of whatever winter this may be.

The gardener's cottage here has companion cottages, apparently, and you too have companions -- for better or for worse.]