The storm has ended. A new day arises. Tori hastens to the sill, but the man she glimpsed the night before has vanished. Perhaps it was as her mother said, just a dream. But what if it wasn’t?
Ayn joined her at the sill, glancing over Tori’s shoulder at the promise of a new day. “There’s no one out there, sweetheart,”” she said.
“Well, no . . . not now.”
“And not last night either. Shadows twist themselves into all sorts of shapes during a storm.”
Tori wasn’t convinced. “Even into full-grown men?”
“Even into full-grown men.”
“In cloaks?” Tori added.
The smile on her mother’s lips faltered. . .