A Wytch, if she is one worth her salt, is in essence always alone, whether she be surrounded by people or not. We stand on the precipice, one foot in the world of form and the other outside of it. Not so very long ago, however, I had set my sights on finding my old paramour, Douglas. In the course of events, I was able to connnect with his niece, Morgan Adams, who was a great Captain in her own right. It was upon her kindness that I found myself thrust. It was at this time, over dinner in her cabin that I was asked to recount this very question.