Her voice only served to add more fog to the already murky memories of the past, rather than alleviating the mess that was permeating his mind. Yes, they could be dangerous, she agreed. It was curiosity, perhaps, that pulled her closer to him — he remained in his place and watched the tawny fae creature study him. What was he to her? What was he in the blue eyes of pretty wolf woman? It didn't take long for him to learn what thoughts passed through her mind. She was not afraid, of the woods or of him or of ghosts. Ghosts. He was a ghost to the aquatic gaze, ephemeral and dead and fading from the world though he knew himself to be made from flesh and blood and fur like any other man. Surprise cluttered apathy, pushing it out of the way. Ghosts. Was she a ghost to him? Was this why he could not remember her?
No, she was as much a ghost as he, taking place of physical memory that was hidden behind the sun and moon. Time was a fickle, annoying thing; why did it burn out everything that might have been good, making it impossible to see clearly? He might never have known the reason for the world to be so cruel to him, as his mind was turned back to the real at the sound of her small inquiry. Who was he, what was his name. Did he have one? "Ravesque." Yes, Ravesque was his name, he remembered. The word was so different to her own, spoken with ferocity and dripping in masculine syllables. "And who are you, beauty?"
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