I breathe in the earthy notes of her hair. That scent is so reassuring somehow. I know that scent… I know her. It’s on the periphery, the frayed edges of this feathery cloak, if I could just climb out. I’m close now… close to stepping out into consciousness. She draws away, her warm solid arms slipping from me. And I look at her, blinking as the light dims. That heart-shaped face, those freckles smattered around her eyes, dotted around her mouth… her green eyes are averted, a smudge of wetness where her empathy must’ve spilled. I know her; of course I know her. “Tamsin,” I whisper.
