He knows that voice anywhere. He can remember the first time he's heard it, the sharp edge in it, the force behind it, a woman determined to wear both strength and femininity without one cancelling the other out. Those of the Aerie had cast her out and given her no place to call home. She had been, has been a creature of misfortune. That he's been able to add meaning to her life is an unparalleled joy. He acknowledges that nothing about their camaraderie has been one-sided. Kainé gives to him as much as he does the same for her.

In a way, she too, is his purpose. He knows better than to say it, however. She'd cut him off before he got more than a few words out, following up with some smart-ass comment. Quite possibly a punch if he's too close when he dares to say something sentimental to her. But he knows she doesn't reject the notion on the inside. It is simply that old habits die hard, if they die at all. His own habits remain glued to him, even if he has learned to compromise with them, to see past them.

They are both imperfect and flawed and in that, they find perfection.

"Hunting for a woman," he answers up to her, letting her little jab slide right on by. She's right, after all. Age has had its way with him and there is little in their empty, dystopian world that will save him from that fate. "Maybe you've seen her. Mouthy, intimidating, likes to argue with old men and books. Has a thing for white flowers."

And unforgettable. Of all things, Kainé is unforgettable.