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scrutiny he tugged the cap roughly off his short -cropped inky black hair and began wringing it in his hands. “So…” he began, clearing his throat, and attempted a smile. “I was thinking I could pull out the couch for you tonight. It’s already got sheets on it, can’t promise how fresh though.” Shifting on his feet again, he peered into the depths of my cloak and waited for an answer.
    “Yes, ” I replied. I could hear my accent despite the rasp of my throat when I spoke. It summoned distant memories of a language and people long dead, of boats and fish and the sweet salty sea.
    Cain nodded to himself and glanced at the howl of the storm raging outside his window. “Looks like it’s gonna be a bad one this time. They say we haven’t had a winter like this in years.”
    “I know.”
    “Well,” he said after an awkward pause, “don’t worry. I already stocked up on supplies, so we should be good if it decides to hold out. Do you, ah, wanna borrow one of my shirts?” He gestured to the silvery blue skirts peeking from beneath my gray cloak.
    “Thank you, ” I replied, though I was not sure it was a wise decision, since I seemed so off balance.
    With a thoughtful smile on his lips he nodded and disappeared through the open door. From the flats around us babies cried, couples fought and screamed threats, others held silent in fear of the coming storm.
    I removed my cloak, stood and carefully folded it until it slid into the pocket of my tunic. Gooseflesh rose on my arms as the chilled air rested on my skin. Cain had been right; it was cold, but not as much as the city beyond that window.
    “Here you—go .” Cain began confidently and then stuttered.
    I twirled around at the sound of his voice, my waist -length curls shifting in spite of the many intricate braids I had woven them into. Our eyes met, locked and seemed to graze together in a force swift as the tide. Cain’s jaw clenched as he strained against some fierce emotion. Yet when he breathed it was as though coming up for air again.
    I stood, closing the space between us, and said, “Thank you.”
    Our fingers brushed as he handed over the heavy woolen fabric. I watched his pupil overcome its iris, only to once more be consumed by rich indigo.
    “Added some sweats and socks, since you’ll probably get cold,” he offered. “ Not like I have a lot to cover you up with, since this ain’t the Ritz.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he tore his eyes away and glared at the floor. “You can change in my bathroom. It’s through that door and on the right.”
    I listened to the pounding of his heart as I passed.
     
    Cain’s bedroom was dark but felt much more like a home than the rest of his flat. The bed took up most of the space.
    Anything smaller and he’d have to curl into a ball.
    The bathroom light was already on. I looked at the razor and scattered dark hairs in the sink. Beside a sweet-smelling tube sat a toothbrush still in its package.
    I lifted my eyes and found my reflection. Rare it was that I even glimpsed my face. So often I lived in that in-between place of shadows and light. I gaped at the creature before me and realized I could not remember the last time I had met this woman in the mirror.
    Silver threads wove through her curling golden hair and hung over her ancient tunic. In her time, those wheat -colored tresses had been the envy of every girl in the village, a rarity that made her stand apart. His symbol still covered the clasp that held her dress together. Her features were sharp and angular yet surprisingly soft. Clan markings decorated the sides of her neck, signs of the ages gone by. Her skin was sun-kissed even now, the same rich olive of her people. Until the need to protect or destroy overcame her it would remain untouched by color and light. For now the gift rested within her eyes, glowing specks of every shade, inhuman eyes.
    Grimacing, I turned away from my reflection, fisted t he silver clasp and breathed