He turned away. I couldn’t believe he’d given up on me that easily. A low cry rose in my throat but I stifled it. I didn’t want him feeling sorry for me. I would miss him – his raven black hair and his mud brown eyes. I liked mud. It was always so soothing, just like his voice. “Soph,” he whispered. He heard my cry, I knew, but I refused to acknowledge his presence. It was best for us all if I didn’t. He knew this. He sighed and turned away, and I glanced at him for the last time.