Dorian was sitting on the stairway of the small cottage he'd taken up residence in, absent-mindedly crunching a bright red apple. He wasn't really paying much attention to what was going on around him, daydreaming about Acantha and the possibility that his family might at last have a safe place to live. It was a shame that his daughter might have to grow up apart from her native race, but he was glad at least that there where other children around.