"But Lila," he whispered. "You'll miss your curfew." "So?" I stared him down. "Curfews are for children." ------------------- Since she turned twelve he's been there, watching. Always watching. And as the clock ticks past twelve each night, he whispers in her ear that same message; You'll miss your curfew. The West Wind loved Lila like a sister. Each cold morning he'd wrap her in his soft embrace, and each night he'd remind her of the time. So of course he was surprised when Lila snapped at him, and it hurt. It hurt a lot.