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An odd sense of foreboding came over Panakeia as she stepped into Can Sing To Guard Inns with Anakron, much as it had many times over the past week, sending prickles along her spine. She swept it away to a distant dustbin of doubting, locked in the lockbox of her mind, where she had banished the previous disturbances. Silly. Unreasonable. The week had gone perfectly. It was, in fact, the best week of Panakeia's life.
That simple truth was the reason behind Panakeia's nervousness. All good things must come to an end. The maxim had been etched into Panakeia's mind by hard experience. Good things did invariably, dramatically, and permanently come to a terrible end. Her fairy tale childhood had come to ruins. Why should this fairy tale romance end in happily ever after? Now that a happy ending seemed almost complete, Panakeia felt more reason than ever to fear that it would be snatched away.
But for now, fear and worry were forgotten, and Panakeia walked with Anakron along the paths of the Guard Inns, wondering aloud why there were no guards or Inns to be found. Both laughed and shook their heads at the absurdities of Mordor's anakronisms and wandered down a tree-lined lane, completely unaware of the doom that was soon to meet them.
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