Thomas was among those who opted out of listening to the start of term speech. It was just too crowded, it made him claustrophobic. Another reason why he disliked attending organized events. He could probably recite the speech by heart if he was asked to, anyway. Most upperclassmen could. If he was in the auditorium, his mind would be wandering. He may as well let it wander up in the sky instead.

He sat astride his broomstick, flying aimlessly, but quickly. Though he wasn't paying much attention, he still swooped effortlessly in and out of trees and pulled up from dives at the last second. Somehow the exhilaration combined with serenity in a way he couldn't describe. It wasn't often that he felt stress at a "close call" as long as he was on a broom he was comfortable. And that serenity, he found, opened his mind's eye sometimes. Or maybe it was the open air, or something indescribable that was the reason he took Shamanism classes. 

As his mind opened, something intruded. Pain, and then a fall. The pain came first, followed by the fall to the ground. It was somewhere nearby, and before Tom had even made the decision to investigate, his broomstick was already pointing in the right direction. 

He arrived a bit late to see what had actually happened, but he could take a guess. Nolan Parver was laying in the grass, a broken tree limb nearby. She had fallen from a rotting branch. 

"Nova," he said, still astride his broom and floating lazily across her field of vision. "You okay?"