Tristan looked at her face, feeling the same flutter in his chest he’d felt the first time he’d seen Luna. She was beautiful — rosy cheeks chubby on her pink face, little cute legs folded on the wood of the table, pink mouth opened in a small ‘O’ of wonder as she looked around the room at all the people. But it wasn’t that which Tristan found so beautiful. It was her eyes. Big, pretty eyes the color of wheat and grass mixed together. Those eyes were blinking at people, at things — clear, sweet, pure. Untouched by the evil around her.
