Kavi and Owl are sitting quietly on the front steps of the Mansion, looking, as they can, for all the world like anybody else. Kavi has been to see Mary Watson, so he's solid and certain, nothing transparent about him; he's waiting for Pyetr Ilitch, in a way, not because he expects him, but because he might come--Pyetr Ilitch does come, sometimes when you least expect him.

Owl ruffles his feathers and glares, it being light, and not Owl's preferred time to be out and about, or even out and perched on a step beside Kavi Chernevog, who is his, although he doesn't belong to Kavi Chernevog. It's impossible for Kavi to be without him, but it's more than possible for Owl to leave Kavi, which irony Owl might appreciate, if he weren't an Owl, and perhaps he does anyway.

Kavi looks young to-day, very young, terribly young, just a boy with tawny hair, a fisherman's son, a woodcutter's son, vulnerable in his ignorance, strong in his body, any boy who grew up nearly alone in a forest. He bites his fingernail and his long coat and worn clothes sit a little tattered on him. If Pyetr Ilitch comes, so much the better: if anyone else does, they'll not think him anything but a boy.

Shh, no. There's no excuse. Kavi's room.

Kavi Chernevog is, the God knows, of all things not hungry, having found someone who gives him her strength, and willingly; he's strong enough that he passes through nothing except open spaces, and Owl can land on his shoulder, although Owl disdains to do it. Young Kavi Chernevog can touch what he likes, and wish as he wishes, and of a certainty he does.

Oh, poor Kavi, hungry Kavi, Kavi who is little more than shadow, terribly hungry. His heart is safe with Pyetr Kochevikov, but, oh, his poor body, without substance, without sustenance. Kavi lures Owl close with desperation, and goes to find something to feed on.

Without his heart he needn't worry about feeling remorse or pain for his thieving. He only needs someone who'll let him take.

Kavi Chernevog is all but shreds and tatters, and desperate for something to make him solid and make him whole, something to give him back his strength and help him--Pyertr Kochevikov still has his heart, and he believes it to be safe there, but he needs something more, and he can't take from the forest, because the tree-fairy's family is quick to revenge and has caught him unawares twice--so the forest is no safe place for him to draw from. Still and all, there's the woman he met when he first came, and she has a good deal to offer and no protection; she's softhearted, and that makes her foolish.

His small pale ghost seeks her.