Prologue

Peter stood on the veranda and watched as she went through her daily ritual, her Tai Chi forms. Her movements were fluid and precise; each was a slow motion version of martial arts techniques used for defensive or offensive purposes. These movements were designed to train the body to respond without conscious thought; for the mind it was an exercise in discipline.

When she was done, her body glistened with sweat. Now came the part that always disturbed him. She walked across the back yard and stood before the large heavily padded bag that hung from the branch of an ancient sycamore tree. Suddenly she attacked the bag with a vengeance. For the next thirty minutes her fury was focused onto that bag. Punches and kicks landed with resounding thumps, launched from all angles, with all the power that her muscular body could generate.

To Peter, the dichotomy was apparent. He never quite understood how she could be so serine and graceful in one moment and be so totally vicious the next; but he understood why. He thought back over the last two weeks, how they had first met and how terrified he had been of the person she was back then. She had traveled a long way on the road to recovery; he was sure the journey was almost over.

Peter was suddenly aware of silence; the thudding and grunting had stopped. Dina was hunched over in front of the bag, her breathing deep and rapid, sweat running down her face, droplets dripping off her nose onto the parched earth. Slowly she stood upright and with her hands on her hips and turned her body until she was facing him. Her smile was as dazzling as the sun that scorched the land. With a wave she acknowledged his presence, picked up her towel, and wiping her face walked slowly towards the house.

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