Thoughts from a tree branch
There is a tree near the mansion. It was big and the weather was nice and Tom had gotten the urge to climb it. So he is now perched on a branch, idly twirling a large black feather in his fingers, and thinking about nothing in particular. (Maybe the feather might make a nice addition to his hat. Wait. He had left his hat back in England. And what kind of bird was it from anyway? It could be a crow or raven feather, but it seemed too big. Maybe they had new species of birds here? After all, if this place had wizards and gods why shouldn't it have abnormally large birds flying around? Or maybe...)
It is a sunny day, there is a nice breeze, and Tom is happy and very much alive. What more could one wish for? However, some company might be nice and Tom always loves to talk to people.