She claimed to point a slap at him. “You’ve a messy mouth for such a fine man of honor!” He got her arm, pulled her nearby, and for a couple of moments they went dancing along the street, prodding each other, their voices cheerful; however when they withdrew, their state of mind diminished. “It’s distinctive as of now,” she said as they remained with their arms around each other. “Maybe I’ve… ” She was by all accounts looking for the right words. “As though I’ve shed a skin. That is it, that is the thing that it resembles. It’s all so new. The scents, the tones. Everything. Maybe I’ve shed an old skin, and the new skin is more touchy, yet not as solid. Don’t you feel it? You should.” He told her indeed, he felt a lot of something very similar. The breeze got, turning the birch leaves, conjuring a fluid stirring that expanded into a stream of breath, singing in a long-voweled surge, pouring along the bended throat of the old mentor street; through the rippling leaves, the light lit windows of the town were divided into a searing orange sparkle, similar to the features of a jeweled sun appearing among the worn spots of night; the white trunks of saplings more profound in the woodland influenced like sedated artists; and from some place nearby, everything except overpowered by the flowing of the breeze, sounded the tinkling of a chime, a translucent voice that addressed Beheim in syllables of ice, telling him of something mysterious and lost that he could know and be engaged by assuming he would just go ahead at this point. Then, at that point, the entire, wild tearing substance of that second came into him with the suddenness of a disclosure, and he needed to toss back his head and yell, adding the breezy commotion of his spirit to the extraordinary development of time and destiny that was stealing him away into the hotness and rot of the isolations. Alexandra mumbled something. He heard just the words, “I wish… ” however knew from the snugness of her midriff, the pounding of her heartbeat, that she was as yet apprehensive. He measured her face in his grasp, kissed her temple, stroked the cool, massy stream of her hair. The strain left her, and she loose against him. Behind her he watched a squirrel jump out onto the street, its dark coat nearly mixing with the grayed surface of the residue. It remained on its rear legs, sniffing the air, then, at that point, hastened nearer, stood erect once more. It gave no indication of dread, clearly undisturbed by their unnatural aroma, and Beheim contemplated whether Alexandra’s picture had been well-suited, if without a doubt they had shed some dry textured piece of clothing, some troublesome genuineness that had kept them from themselves mixing in with the boring shades of the normal. “Love,” he said, utilizing the word gently, as a name rather than a vow. She pulled back from him, frightened. “Time to go,” he said. “They may ponder in the town why we’re not scared of strolling about in obscurity.” He kissed her on the mouth, let the kiss grow gradually, playing with her tongue, and when they fell to pieces, she got his head and kept it actually, held his eyes, not looking, making an effort not to intrigue her will, yet—it appeared — opening to him, permitting him to enter her with his own will, to give her his certainty. Something started to show in her face that he had never seen, a sort of clean anticipation that didn’t have anything to do with need or need. “Well,” she said finally, grasping his hand. “I’m prepared.” Night was shutting down over the valley, wild stars showing brilliant as agony over Castle Banat, and as they strolled with their heads bowed their hearts were dashing, their psyches weighty with considerations of things to come, of how they would pass the evening in the town of their frail and countless foe, and afterward travel out along the street of the obstinate blood, close to the furthest limit of an old heartfelt murkiness and the mysterious magnificence of the dead, at the light of the East and the slope of mahogany, at the wrongdoings and consecrated focal snapshots of another Mystery and the start of an odd green time.