He nodded, his hair sliding around his face, hiding himself from me.

His silken hair slid forward to brush against her shoulders, a hushed caress.

He allowed the lightstone to fall away onto the floor as her hair slid back in a heavy mass over his hands.

Her head drooped, the golden hair sliding across her cheek.

His hair slid across the back of his hands in a stroke of cool satin.

Slowly, then the spirit turned, hair sliding aside to show another face.

I nodded, my hair sliding over his face.

He nodded, and his hair slid across his lap again, as if the braid were moving closer to me.

When she shifted, her hair slid down over her shoulder.

As she reached for him, his hair slid through her fingers, and the river snatched him away.