• Bree was awoken by a ray of sunlight falling onto her face and a cheery voice telling her, “Wake up, sleepy head!”
    “Mmm,” Bree mumbled, forgetting where she was for a moment. “Five more minutes, Mom.”
    “You’re going to be late for your first training, but all right. I’ll just go tell the master....”
    “What? Huh? Waz’ happnin’?” Bree said sleepily, sitting up from the masses of white sheets and rubbing her eyes. “What did you say?” Bree tried to rub away the last of sleep with her fists, pressed firmly against her face.
    “I said wake up, silly! It’s almost time for your first training, and you’re not at all presentable. Oh, come now, that’s it. We’ll get you washed up and ready for the big day in no time.” The grandmotherly angel that had woken her up led Bree out of the room and to the bathroom.
    “Well, we’re too late for a bath but go ahead and wash up your face, sweetie,” said the angel, leaving Bree alone to prepare for her day. “Just don’t dilly-dally, dear. We haven’t much time to spare,” she called through the white oak door.
    Bree washed her face and brushed her teeth with the provided toiletries like she had the night before and heaved a big sigh. She studied herself in the mirror for a moment. Heaven seemed to shine through every inch of her, from the deep brunette of her hair, to the light caramel of her eyes, to the soft tan of her skin. She looked like a totally different person from the one she had seen in mirrors on Earth. She looked peaceful, even in unease.
    “Come now, dear,” called the angel. “Are you ready?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” said Bree respectfully, opening the heavy door.
    “Please, call me Pan,” said the angel as she led them down another hall and out the door into the bright shine of the sun off the vibrant green grass. “I was assigned to be your caretaker, so you’ll be seeing me often.”
    “Pan. That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?” Bree asked with polite interest.
    “Pandora,” said the angel. “But I go by Pan.”
    “Okay,” said Bree as they reached a clearing full of other wingless angels in flowing white dresses and Pan left. Bree studied the other newcomers. They were in a range of ages, but she seemed to be the youngest. The oldest was a man that looked much too frail to be doing any kind of combat.
    “Alright, newbies,” said a muscular angel with strong, pale blue wings and jet black hair. “This is how this goes. I am your trainer. You will refer to me as sir and sir only. Not man. Not dude. Sir.”
    The man was speaking very slowly, like you might to a particularly stupid child. Bree could tell that he had had problem with this before. “Now, I will show you what to do, and you will do it. No protests. No procrastinations. And most of all, no whining.” Bree didn’t like her trainer already. She thought that angels were supposed to be nice.
    She must have unconsciously been making a face because the trainer came over to her and leaned down to look in her face. “What’s the matter, kid?” he jeered. “Too complicated for you?”
    “No, Sir,” said Bree politely, making sure to call him sir to get on his good side. “I just think your training might be more effective if you didn’t yell so much and actually let the students have a chance to speak for themselves before judging them.”
    The trainer seemed taken aback by her advice, as though it was an insult to his teaching and not a tip. “Oh, what do we have here,” he said mockingly, recovering from his shock. “A little back-sasser, so we? Well, I’ll just have to tell someone about that, unless you have more to say?” He left the statement open, an invitation.
    “No, Sir,” Bree said again, keeping a poker-face. The trainer just humphed and went back to his teaching. Bree didn’t speak up much again after that.