4. Dark

"Jonah." A whisper resounded in the surrounding silence.

He turned towards the voice, hearing her slow footsteps on the ground.

"Do I know your voice?" he asked, although more for himself than for the speaker.

"Perhaps not." Her footsteps stumbled. "Jonah, where are you?"

More shuffling footfalls. Concentrating on the sound, he was able to catch her when she stumbled again. All was still as they touched.

"You do not know my voice," she whispered, "but my face is likely to remain unchanged."

She fumbled for his hand, then put it on her face. His fingers became his eyes. Soft eyebrows, long eyelashes, slightly broken nose... And the lips. That telltale scar slashed across them. Of course he knew this face. His own flesh and blood. Katharine, his dear sister.

"Unchanged, of course," he said as he drew her into a tight embrace and cried into her soft hair. "Unchanged."

"Not entirely," she murmured into his shoulder. "My eyes... Jonah... I cannot see." Tears of her own now trickled down his shirt.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her.

"You are unchanged in the dark, dear one. As I am."

--

Happy thanksgiving, y'all!