thinking he is quite alone, he enters the room as if it were his own

Ever since that fateful day some five years ago, in brisk and bright early spring, what's Lora's has been Haze's, and what's Haze's has most certainly been her Lady Lora's.

They share everything: clothes, songs, food the other won't want (meat-for-veg, veg-for-meat), stories, secret jokes, hairbrushes and ribbons, craft-cotton and thread, and sleeping spaces most of all.

It's hardly uncommon for Haze to stumble into bed or blanket she'd thought open and find warm, waiting arms there to catch her. She giggles, blushes, acts at least a little ashamed, but snuggles up all the closer, humming a precious lady's name.