*River*
When I was a boy, I learned the value of quietly creeping toward my prey. I can't remember who taught me or why I determined that my very existence depended on silence, but it's a skill I put into practice when the mood suits me... as it does now. Like smoke on a gentle soughing wind, I creep across my sister's room and ease onto the mattress.
With a touch as light as a butterfly landing on a petal, I brush Julieta's dark strands away from her lovely face. Slowly, she opens her eyes.
"It's me, River," I whisper softly, not wanting to alarm her. She frightens so easily.
She bolts upright and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. "You're home."
I want desperately to hug her in return, as I did when we were children, but I understand too well her aversion to being held, so I ke
