There was an older man and a woman who looked about the same age, and two boys who looked a few years younger than Nora. All four were tall, extraordinarily so, and all had red markings on their arms that looked like tribal tattoos. The woman was carrying a heavy bow, now slung over her back. As far as Nora could see, there were no more arrows. Nora knew the instant she saw them that all four were Vassiz. The sublime grace with which they carried themselves, lightly and surefooted, gave it away immediate. But their skin was not milky white, as Hunter’s, or Alexander’s, or even Rafael’s had been. Instead, it was a pale cocoa, like a fresh brew of coffee mixed with too much cream. But it was flawless, as was the skin of every other Vassiz she had ever seen. The four stopped maybe twenty feet away from Nora and Alexander and regarded them calmly. Nora’s body tensed. She met their eye contact, though, staring back defiantly. “Alexander!” the man said suddenly, “We did not expect to find you here.”
