” “It’s really easy.” I replied, “It just takes a little practice.” “Would you teach me?” she said with a smile. How could I say no...? “Where are my manners?” I blurted out, standing up and offering her my seat, while praying that she didn’t notice the tent in my jeans. I handed her my guitar, moved behind her and said, “Put your fingers here, here, and here and strum with your other hand.” She did as instructed, smiled again, and looked up at me. “There you go! You’ve learned your first. Now when we talked about them and we did not want them to know we used one of the languages we spoke. But that would only going to last so long before they caught on to that. We were still doing a language a week around the house so we would stay fluent in each. Being inquisitive they were picking up things quickly.It was Tuesday afternoon that I had another ‘Oh crap’ call come into the office. The call was forwarded to my office where I answered it. It was the lead investigator for one of the. I looked at myself. I was angry. My hair, while softly feminine close-up like this, could easily be taken for a modern men's style from a distance. I was about to point this out when I realised what she meant. "Yes. You idiot. Your eyebrows give you away. Even from a distance you look like a girl with a man's body. You can't take chances with this Ken. With the lawnmower engine running you would not be able to hear someone approaching. A neighbour, Uncle Ken, anyone might call, hear the mower,. On the wall opposite their tunnel entry was a large iron door. It was only wide enough for one person to walk through, but tall enough for Sygraid with room to spare. It had no hinges, resting in two metal-lined channels. A chain was hooked to the top of it, leading over a pulley and down to a crank beside the opening they’d just entered through. The door was a solid piece of iron, without even a window to see beyond. A winged sword, pointing up was engraved in the center. John looked back.