A tear slipped from her eye and she caught it on her finger tips. The old riddle came to mind, one her brother had asked her: I was born in your eyes, live on your cheeks, and die on your lips. What am I?
You are a tear, but what am I?
What am I?
The answer was a single word; one horrible word that she refused to think about. If she could only shut it out, perhaps it would go away. Maybe it would all go away.
Only, it wouldn't.
There was a sound; a footfall. Soft and muted in the snow. She stiffened and sniffed the air. The familiar smells of home were there. Under them was something else equally familiar. Musky, heady.
He is here.
She stood quickly. Her mother stirred in her sleep, as if she sensed the intrusion, but she didn't wake. Kariss fixed her blankets with trembling hands
