He sees her. Nine years old, and twelve, and twenty-some years old too.

"Lady Cassandra."

He stoops to drop the bag on the ground on his way towards her, heels beating the cobblestones and he runs and scoops her up in his arms and his wings with a laugh.

"You--! What are you doing here! I thought--oh, God, Cassandra, I'm so glad to see you, I--" and another laugh, and another.