Myfanwy Mourns
Myfanwy roosted in the most comfortable tree she could find. Night had fallen but she wasn't scared. She had been here before. There weren't many trees suitable for a bird of her size along the banks of the river.
She'd roosted near Thames House. That's where she'd followed him, after the explosion at home.
It wasn't that far from here to Canary Wharf, she recalled. Not as far as having to fly to Cardiff. She liked that food he called chocolate. She would wait for him for as long as it took. For as long as it takes.