Efler reached the top of the tower, her boots scuffing against splintered planks. The crossbow across her back caught starlight along its steel reinforcements.
"The view," she said, settling against the tower's railing with her back to the fire below. "Though I've never seen stars arranged quite like this."
Xavier studied her profile in the strange light. The constellation overhead cast everything in silver and blue, softening the sharp angles of her face.
Each word she spoke was accompanied by a ghost of white vapor, a fleeting cloud that dissipated in the biting wind.
"Different from home?" he asked.
"Very." Efler's voice carried an odd note, almost wistful. "Sometimes I dream about other stars. Familiar patterns. But when I wake up, I can never quite remember what they looked like."
