Jack saw.
Kate stood still. Eerily still. Listening. She appeared to be entranced by some sort of invisible force and moved only her eyes. She was searching.
Jack saw.
Statuesque, that was the word. Kate was statuesque, and even more beautiful than Venus, stone or flesh. Jack noticed her right thumb shaking, breaking her perfect outline. Something was wrong; something was always wrong with her. But the wrong was so right, somehow, so inescapably, breathtakingly perfect.
Jack saw.
All of a sudden she collapsed, like a mannequin suddenly released from its strings. Her limbs hung awkwardly as they hung on to the tree trunk for support and lowered her body to the forest floor. Slowly, slowly, she drew her head into her arms and hid her face from the her observer. Like a still pond suddenly touched by a stray pebble landing in it's center, she was transformed. Whatever had just touched her core was yet another stray rock hitting her, and any part of her which had been able to become still and peaceful in this chaotic place was once again shaken, and once again she had to drop to the floor and try to keep all her passion and all her pain inside the borders of her ocean.
Jack saw.