The nights on Chandrila are enchanting, brilliant moon and starlight casting silvery shadows across the meadow whose flowers are closed and bent over in slumber. Jessalyn is there, alone, her pale gray-green cloak dragging through the dewy grass that clings to her legs. Her smile is serene and expectant, and she pauses in the middle of the clearing to look up at the night sky and its calming array of stars. But not for long -- soon her eyes are scanning the road in the distance, other senses extending to search for signs of another's approach. Her heart is beating as loud as a drum in her chest, and she has to calm herself with a wry chuckle. "Just enjoy it," she sighs quietly. "It'll never last, anyway."