She shivered.
"It's getting chilly out," he said, gently taking her arm. "Come."
But as they approached the front door of the house she shook her head adamantly and pulled away from him.
He thought of trying to draw her in with him, but realised that would be a mistake. Instead, he went to the door, opened it, and stepped just inside to show her that there was nothing out of the ordinary or threatening about doing so. "It's all right," he said, hoping his tone was reassuring, "there's nothing to be afraid of."
Through her fear, she studied him narrowly for a moment, considering his outstretched hand as though its offer was as empty as it appeared. She turned for a moment to consider the outside world, perhaps engraving it into her memory in case she would never return to it, and moved slowly to the threshold. Then it was obvious that she feared the consequences of crossing over, and her fear, her instinct to flee wrung Anest's heart. At the last, fixing him with her eyes, holding
her breath, she stepped inside.
Doing his best to smile reassuringly, he said, "Come with me. You're safe here." He took her hand, and once more she reacted strangely to his touch. She took his hand in both of her own and turned it over as if looking for something. She then searched his face, as if asking, `What have you done with it?' It was of course a question to which he did not have the answer.