She held the sword out, using it as a point of focus, something to concentrate on so that her mind would not wander. How quickly she had become accustomed to this idea, this weird and wild magic, this strange world. Around her, tennis balls rained down harmlessly from above, hard canvas and felt borrowed from the world of her birth, bouncing upon the ground, collecting a gathering of fresh snow as they bounced once, twice into the air, then fell silent.
How many days had it been? Three? Four? Almost a week? Still she focused on this new talent, the one thing that made her special in this world, the one thing that she and the Mouse King shared.
Indifferent to the change in scenery, to the manner in which they had crossed over between different realms, Jolly Roger now led a life of content
