[Sirithheruwen]

Twylight was now in a state of depression. She did not feel well being horrible to anyone, and Marcho was no exception. She set her head in her hands, her half-empty cup of tea cold and forgotten in front of her. The man next to her had neither moved nor spoke.

The door to the Inn opened slowly, and a figure entered, but she was too busy wallowing in her own feelings to notice. The figure circled the Inn slowly, looking around at everyone sitting or standing, talking or silent. He came to a stop behind Twylight, and stood there for a moment, studying her carefully. With work-hardened fingers, he reached out to tap her shoulder...

Twylight felt the fingers on her shoulder, and she jumped so much that she fell off the stool she was sitting on. A deep booming laugh sounded behind her. She stood up hurridly and whirled on the man standing behind her, laughing. Her face changed rapidly from anger to delight. To the surprise of everyone watching, she reached out her arms and pulled him into a deep hug.

Long ago, this unlikely pair had grown up together. They had found that Twylight's muteness was no stumbling block whatsoever, and they had invented a language with their hands, just between the two of them. Twylight now made rapid motions with her long, slender fingers, which the strange followed with large hazel eyes. What are you doing here so early? You weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow! she signed. "Well," he boomed, "I figured I'd been away from you for far too long! It's nice to see you again, Twylight!"

She pulled him into another strong hug. It's nice to see you again too, Marin. she thought with a smile.