We join Tori and her mother at the window. Ayn was trying to reassure her that the figure below her window last night was just a trick of the storm.
Ayn reached over and played with a curl that had fallen in Tori’s face. “Even into full-grown men in cloaks.” She pecked Tori on the forehead before rushing to the door. “I’m sure it was nothing.”
But Tori thought she had detected caution in her voice. Like, perhaps, she suspected what her daughter had been saying was true.
Alone once more, Tori turned to the window, but only blue skies and drying puddles greeted her this morning, none of the menace that she had faced only hours before. “He was real,” she repeated, as if to set her mind at rest. “I know he was real.”