There was blood on the hair of his chinny chin chin.

Like a bellowing beast, he howled her name, his raspy wails riding the gales like a ship on a roiling sea.

Beyond the window, a breeze gently gusted―and she heard it―ever so softly, just beyond the panes. Like a forlorn lover, dark waters were wooing her, a wily whispering, gently insistent―Chrissstaaa…Chrisssstaaaaa…

She buried her face into his neck, hiding her tears―and her fears, for though the Lor of Zeria was resisting her advances with valiant chivalry, that within her trembling hand was completely without honor.