They weren't feelingthe flames I described, and were wondering who was."The changing cannot move. Do not try. Even now you are not lost. You aremerely...being remade, the skeins of destiny being rewound and rewoven. Youfeel a dull itch building inside. It begins in your throat, like gossamerwings lightly fluttering against your neck as they try to escape. Butnothing is leaving. That sensation is the changing's new form, a freshshell of flesh and memory being formed around their self."From that. .. in your personal castle. I was a damsel in distress, naked ... wrapped in a bath towel, without anywhere to go. And you saved me. You're my hero!"He cleared his throat. Nervously, he reached up with his free hand and placed it tenderly over mine on his arm, then he slowly led me into the living room, where he plucked a long-stem red rose from an arrangement in a vase and he handed it to me. I took it, smiled, and automatically held it to my nose. "You keep flowers in your apartment?" I asked. More

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