His sombrero was yanked low over his face to protect his eyes. A soldier stepped forward, putting up his hand."Hey, old man!" the soldier said, "where...you going?" My village," the man replied, almost inaudibly."Eh! What's that? What village?" There... over there!" Identity papers?"The old man pushed his hand into shabby coat, through his long, tangled silver beard. He extracted a piece of paper and handed it to the soldier. "What's this?" the soldier asked, "it looks like a part of an old. Trees surrounded the meadow it seemed to be in the center of, beautiful. "Yes, this is my home, been in my family, for generations. I take it you fancy Victorian homes?" "Why yes in fact I do, always have. They are mysterious and beautiful." I looked at this stranger, thinking, 'Like you.' He smiled and parked the car, and as if he heard my thoughts said, "No my butterfly, like you." His golden eyes looked me over, a spark of electricity following his gaze. Self consciously, I bit my lower. More

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