"Stratford," a feeble voice called out.
"Hmm?" The man looked around in puzzlement, wondering where he was, wondering who called out to him.
He was in his human form—a middle-aged man with snow-white hair that contrasted sharply against his lightly tanned skin.
His piercing blue eyes were the most striking features, clear and bright like the sky on a winter morning.
They held a depth of wisdom and experience. Yet, a certain warmth lingered in his gaze.
"Stratford," the voice called out again.
The man turned around and saw a woman sleeping on the bed. She was covered in a blanket, her face was pale and her eyes contained sorrow.
Stratford's body trembled involuntarily. "Leah… is that you?"
"Come closer," said the woman.
She reached out with her trembling hand, beckoning to him. Large patches of her skin had hardened, rough and brown like a tree bark.
