Margot and Charles ride out into the forest in the early morning light, surrounded by a small select group of courtiers. By some stroke of luck, Brad and Walt have managed to join the group and enter the royal inner circle. Lord Walsingham is very pleased by this stroke of luck and insisted they attend, despite the early hour.
The hunting's good around Bondy, despite the persistent rumours about highwaymen and bandits living within it's limits. Plenty of game, fresh air and company.
Charles takes the hood off his fair white gyrfalcon, setting it free from his gauntlet. "Go, fair Margot. Fly well-" Brad hears him say quietly as if flies away, the clean clear swoop of it's wingspan soaring into the sky. At first, he thinks he misheard until Margot makes a casual remark just in front of him
