Maurice recovered quickly in the care of Collette, but he didn’t stay long in the winery stables. Collette’s father was not often sober, but on one such occasion, he happened upon Maurice and Collette sitting together in the barrel room. He ran Maurice out and gave Collette a few bruises for shaming their family.

Dr. Moreau awoke on a straw bed in the morning. The straw smell met his senses first. Next he heard the chickens outside a nearby window. He sat up and groaned–pain filled his head, and he felt the bandage wrapped around it.

The time machine was a masterpiece of curved tubes, pistons, and gauges. Every piece was necessary and beautiful. Dr. Moreau did not slack in his responsibilities to science. The room was covered in diagrams, calculations, estimations, and several scale models of the time machine.

Dr. Moreau erased the blackboard vigorously. His mind cascaded emotions in waves of frustration, anticipation, annoyance, eagerness, and pride. He was a professor, but unlike the white haired, dried up, coots, he was still in his prime–or nearly anyway.

Endmur had no interest in most of his classes. Most young elves at his age relished their five year long introductory classes to the elven crafts. In his last class, he was instructed to forge a basic weapon that would be able to keep as a souvenir when the class ended.

After five years of practice and work, Endmur disappointed his teacher by presenting him with a foot long letter opener. The capstone project on these classes proceeded with secrecy, otherwise Master Altema would have stopped Endmur’s petty project and guided him toward a dagger or short sword.