“Rois—” He was trembling; I could hear the leaves rustle around him. “Yes. You seemed to live in the borderlands of the world I tried to escape. You tossed your heart after every passing breeze. Even after light. You did not seem—”
The word pushed through my throat like two hard stones. “Human.”
[...]
“Corbet.” I swallowed something bitter. “Do you care for me at all? Or do you only need me?”
He breathed a word: yes, or no, or Rois. His hand opened to my face; I felt only cool invisible leaves. I lifted my own hand; in the light our shadows touched.
“You come to me,” he whispered. “Into every dark place. Into every memory. Into the empty places of winter. I go alone and find you with me. Why do you care for me?”
I did not know until I spoke. “Because you are making me human.”
– Winter Rose, Patricia A. McKillip
