They backpacked Europe, hostel by hostel.  It was Anya’s insistence that they travel simply, no planes, all train, bus and foot.  Morozko mastered the art of smoking when you were a walking refrigerator.  Anya learned to pack light.  Both needed time to heal – one had lost his body, the other had lost her soul.

Despite the marvels of the Old Word – the museums, the culture, the castles and cathedrals - Anya could not sleep.  When she shut her eyes, she saw the deathless girls, each whispering silently, tears on their cheeks like pearls.  Alina was always at the forefront, swirling into dust. 

It had been a year since...