She walked the fields in spirit, using old connections that had not yet died.
Silent she was, quiet. Affecting nothing so that none would heed her.

There she rested across the bed and watched silently as he breathed. It was slow and laborious. He was in great pain, and she knew that it was not all from the wound that was healing on his shoulder.

A small woman entered the room. She was young and very pretty. Power flowed from her, not as great as his yet growing and of a similar flavor. She was dressed in armor. She sat across from him and held his hand. A faint smile came from him and she beamed.

At least he has her.

He asked for something and the woman leaves.

The dark haired ghost walks over to him and gently places a hand against his skin. He feels a slight chill and wonders. His will is bent on finding her. She lets him and his eyes turn cold.

"What do you want?"

He is met with silence and if he had been able to see her form, he would have seen tears flowing from her eyes. So great was the strike of his voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

A slight shift in mood takes him and his voice softens. But already she has left.

A hundred miles away her spirit returns to her body, and she curls on the bed and weeps.