The man's back noticeably stiffened as her tears began to flow. Oh by the Light. He hated this, this thing humans did. It just proved how their minds were not meant to handle the emotions they created for themselves. He held her closer, and began to rock her very slightly, side to side and in time with his steps. He tried not to grimace as the cold, clammy petals of the flowers she clutched flopped against his forearm.
"Sssh, sssh," he murmured, pressing the bridge of his nose against the curve of her skull. "Don't strain yourself, my la- Dahlia," he hurriedly corrected himself. "I didn't mean anything. Just keep calm, and stay with me...."
His voice trailed off as he lifted his head to look down the road. Why had they decided to camp so far from the city? Why had he decided to walk so far in? But, if he hadn't, this girl would be dead for sure... Or worse.
He was still perplexed by her, though. He was quite sure she had been dead when he had first rushed to her, despite his hopes otherwise. And with the size of the wound and the amount of blood that had drained from her, her survival was nothing short of a miracle. And he could not bring himself to doubt that it wasn't. He could have sworn, just as his legs had carried him to her, that he had felt a chilled rush of divinity pulse in the air.... But he could not feel it in her now. Of course, that may have been because the only thing he could feel was her bloodied ribs scraping against his as she cried.
"Please, lady Dahlia," he begged without pleading. "We're close now," he lied. "Would you like to hear a story?"
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