She raises her head and looks back at him . . . and for long moments her eyes search his face -- looking as though she wants to find something, see something.

"I've already waited more than ten thousand years," she replies quietly, and passes him the sleeping spirit in her arms. "How many of my kind need to be healed by you before they understand? How many lifetimes will you live? And how many faces will I make you?"

Her fingers lift, hesitate . . . and lightly touch the hair near his temple before they fall away and she turns as though to go.