The strands of time weaved about her like currents in a river.
She watched them; watched their inhabitants as life and fate danced around one another. She saw peoples’ lives come and go, some not affecting the universe, others having a great impact, their strands larger and more encompassing.
Lightning flashed through the timestream.
A strand appeared, bigger and brighter than any she had encountered before.
It appeared to emanate from Terra, or Earth as some of the natives had called it.
She had never visited the planet before.
Perhaps now was a good time to do so.
She slipped through the timestream, and found herself materialising on the surface of the orb. There was nothing untoward happening that she could detect. The hustle and bustle of the planet carried on around her.
She remained cloaked to the world, not wanting to interfere, nor shock anybody when she became visible.
Nothing, she thought. I’m getting old.
Sighing, the Timewalker that called herself Silver strode through London in the shadow of Big Ben.
