The weather in the scene looked warm, the woman was concentrating, hurrying to get her thoughts down as her mind raced with ideas.Dee suddenly recogni...ed the woman was her favourite author, who wrote under the nom de plume 'The Authoress'. Dee became excited, maybe she would glimpse her idol's face! The Authoress was quite private and protective of her anonymity. Dee moved in closer to try and see more detail.The Authoress seemed calm, but excited, although Dee could still not see her face. Dee. Slow and careful.Her hands had become her eyes, feeling around textures of the rock, brushing moss and lichen, dipping onto loamy soil, brushing the lapping waters of the hot spring. Sweep. Crawl. Sweep. Over and over. It was almost zen-like, the same repetitions she would lose herself with her archery. Pull. Aim. Release. Sweep. Crawl. Sweep.Her fingers brushed clothes, smooth and pillowy—the down of her jacket. She crawled forward, hands sweeping around the smooth fabric, brushing the rougher. More

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