"Heather!" Connor knew that voice, though there were times when he had trouble recalling exactly what it sounded like.
When he first spotted her, his feet seemed to plant themselves in the earth and he stared at the vision in front of him. Heather hadn't looked so young in more than four and a half centuries. "Heather." His voice had dropped to a whisper, the tone reverential. I don't care how she got here, or what this place is. It gave her back to me.