“- Did he really bite you? - someone said in amazement right above me. I straightened up and found myself nose to nose with the owner of the aggressor. What I saw literally took my breath away: three-day stubble on a tanned face, light brown hair carelessly thrown back, and to complete the picture, mocking transparent green eyes. I don’t know why, but I suddenly imagined the ringing of swords, the neighing of war horses clad in armor, and huge crosses on fluttering cloaks. “Who would have thought!” - said the vision, squatted down in front of me and took hold of my tormented trouser leg. I looked down at the top of his head, burned almost white, and tried to cope with my desperately beating heart, while Bruno concentratedly chased the hysterically squealing Pomeranian in a circle. Hurt? – the crusader asked, feeling my leg. I was silent, unable to utter a word. He raised his head, looked up at me and, without waiting for an answer, straightened up. “Very,” I finally croaked, swallowing the lump in my throat. I lied. It didn’t hurt at all. But I couldn’t allow this Templar to disappear from my life as suddenly as he appeared in it.”