I smile back and feel a chill brush against the back of my neck. Losing my smile, I look back and knit my brow in confusion. Nothing. I shrug it off and turn back to Rayah.
````` Nic
I flash a smile and take her hand, sighing.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
