Her wondering – her instincts, the near checklist-like way she looked and sought answers from his appearance and his voice – dimmed when she withdrew her hand, but the emotions coming from her remained practically palpable.

"He helped me once," he said, finding his bearings gradually. "Ashraf...He had some power that could keep me standing."

But she was not Ashraf. Yet he sensed a familiar grace and warmth from her, quite foreign in ways, but no less present.

"I have grown tired again."