Chapter One – London
As the plane banked sharply to the left, it finally dipped through the high layer of typical, British cloud that had been with them since leaving the Atlantic. For a few minutes all they could see were grey tendrils sweeping past the windows, and the plane went quiet in anticipation.
Although this was Clint’s second Olympics, the time difference and long flight meant that he, like most of the team, had fallen asleep four years ago when they had circled over Beijing. He had chastised himself later for being foolish enough to miss seeing the capital from the air.
The archer had made sure not to make the same mistake this year by having three consecutive coffees. This was after he had fallen asleep for a short period once they had taken off from LA.
It was odd because he had once again found himself dreaming about the same thing that had visited him in sleep the past few nights. A woman. She had a slim build and was wearing a pale blue dress that hugged her slender curves. Being a contrasting colour, it ignited her fiery red hair which curled down her back. She seemed very beautiful, but always had her back to him. He called out to her, and in each dream she turned a little more, but he still hadn’t fully seen her face.
In the most recent version, he had seen the curve of her cheekbone, an emerald earring and the beginning of dark lashes, before Bruce nudged him awake.
