Freyja was standing in the kitchen, staring at the wall as she drank her coffee, when she felt the presence of Freyr suddenly slide across her skin, like warm sunlight breaking through bitter winter.
She put the mug down heavily on the bench and ran back to the bedroom, stopping suddenly in the doorway when she saw him - moving, blinking, breathing, alive.
"Freyr," she breathed, finding it in her to move again, to sit on the side of his bed and take his hands so that she could kiss them. "You're alive."