As he'd expected, as he'd noticed before, she was thin. Her ribs pressing against her skin such that he could count them without trying. She'd always been a petite little thing, and though his memory of her body was muddied by time and teenaged hormones, he was certain her breasts had been fuller, her stomach softer. She'd always been beautiful, and she still was, but he could see the weight she'd lost, even without having known her body for years. He was also quite positive that she'd never had the vicious scar running from the left side of her ribs to the top of her belly button. He traced it lightly, looking back into her face with a curious quirk of a brow.