Description

Noah knew he was dreaming. Maybe it was the way the air surrounding him was tainted by a thin vapor of smoke, or maybe it was Tess standing steps away that gave everything away. The boy knew this wasn't Tess, not entirely. Her hair looked like it had been cut shorter with choppy strands falling just below her jawline in an uneven bob. It didn't look like she had used scissors; no it looked like something had ripped the pieces of her hair out. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but a thin layer of grime had begun to settle on her features. Her eyes had dimmed from a blazing gold to a dim auburn; the colour reminded Noah of a dying fire. When she spoke a shiver ran down his spine, "You're not him. You are not Noah."

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