‘Speak up, boy,’ the banker said. ‘What did this woman look like?’ ‘Yeller hair, sir,’ the boy said quickly. ‘With these curls, like, in...it.’ He made circular motions on his forehead with the fingers of one hand. ‘Sarah,’ Caroline whispered. Her legs collapsed beneath her. ‘Michael.’ The boy evidently recognized the name. ‘Michael,’ he said. ‘She said there were nothin’ wrong with Michael, mum. It’s the other lady.’ ‘Lucy?’ Caroline got to her feet once again. ‘Mr. Tutwill, please excuse me.’. They watch each other undress silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn outside of their door. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the side of the bed, his undershirt following, covering the metal over like a tarp. His tanned skin is obscured some by smatterings and tangles of hair growing in any and all possible places. Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his chest, dragging his fingers down through the line it draws to his groin. The hair there is. More

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