"I took us to somewhere away from the Earth and the sun, but I could show you the Earth if you want," she says. "It's beautiful from up here."
"I... really don't know," she says. "That's what Kas has been so depressed about, actually. He's always had a hard time with her being gone, and now he's having a hard time with knowing when she's going to be back and having to wait for it. And I've never met her or anything - Ranata's told me stories, and so has Kas, and of course there's about a million movies, but I don't really feel like she's someone I know."
"I don't know. Probably not. I can't imagine how she would; if there's yet another secret kind of magic that would tell her, I don't know what it is."
"I don't know," she says. "I can't help thinking... what if she doesn't like me?" She sighs, and looks up at the Earth. "I'd be okay. But I'd rather get along with her, and I don't know how to do that, or if I can even make a difference to it at all."
"Maybe it'll be okay," says Helen. "I don't know. I guess I'll find out soon."
"Okay," says Helen, and she listens to Kalavar and murmurs, "Who's there?", and Kalavar says "Nobody," and Helen teleports them down off the moon.
Helen stays with the clan, more or less; Kas more or less doesn't. He'll drop in to see her, but mostly he keeps in touch by brainphone and spends his time - elsewhere. Every kind of elsewhere.
He cannot handle this. He plainly can't. Late spring gets closer and closer, and he gets less and less sure of what the hell he is doing. He burns an entire stack of half-finished postcards and cries. He cleans Isabella's house and cries. He bakes her a tray of welcome-back muffins and eats them all and throws up in the backyard and cries. He leaves for a month, gets into fights and has sex with strangers and cries in public bathrooms, and then he comes back and cleans Isabella's house again and falls asleep in tear-stained exhaustion on her immaculate living room floor.