Closed Losses (Nate)

[Arundel]

513 AV, 30th Day of Fall

Arundel arrived back at the pavilion barely hanging on by a thread. Domero snorted nervously, sensing the quagmire of grief once more threatening to break the dam she'd put up. Cracks marred the careful surface of her facade, showing in the tightness of her face and the haunted look in her red-rimmed eyes. The green irises stood out dramatically against the pink of the surrounding tissue, giving her a wild appearance. With her wind-whipped hair, chapped lips, and rumpled clothes, she looked like quite the sight. Arundel carefully swung her right leg over and slid on her stomach down the Strider's side. His necked curved around and he touched her with his dark nose. A small splash of white stood out on his muzzle, and she touched it affectionately.

But no matter how hard she tried to push the grief away and rejoice, the image of Juniper's torn and bloody body crept to the surface of her mind. A chill ran through her core, as cold as the mare's lifeless shell had been when Arundel had galloped back to the city with Rue. She wrestled with the emotions for a long moment, holding her stallion's face against her breast like he was a lifeline and she had been thrown overboard into a violent coastal storm. The Drykas could feel the burning in her face caused by unshed tears, and the lump in her throat. Domero breathed loudly against her chest, standing still and comforting like the savior he was.

She stood in front of the stallion now, and pressed her cheek against his broad forehead. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the smell of him. The familiar scent of horse was comforting, but there was also something else - something a little more. Perhaps it was because he was hers. Everything felt different. Domero pulled his head away and raised it high, looking around at some sound only he could hear. His ears swivelled and perked, and he stood like that for a moment. Arundel stroked his muscular neck with the tips of her fingers, running them through his wind-snarled mane. After a long pause, he turned back to her, seeming to have lost interest in the sounds his sensitive ears picked up. Large dark eyes looked into hers, full of intelligence and strength.

He was strong enough right now for the both of them. His face leaned in close, touchings hers. A gesture of curiosity on his part, and affection. It warmed her momentarily before the chill once more set in.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Nate had actually been contemplating his situation before Arundel had shown up. The problem was, the Drykas had left him with very little to do, except sit around and think. On the occasions that Arundel took him out for her trips, he could finally stretch his legs. But he was not permitted to hunt on his own, which he found patently absurd. And they did not trust him to touch their injured, which while he understood their reasoning, left him with precious little to do with his time. So he contemplated the options available to him.

He knew, of course, that blind running would be impossible. If it had been possible, then Aleixo would have made it. More importantly, he would have taken his sister with him. Even if the Sea were not almost certainly filled with all manner of hungry beasts, Nate was sure that he could not be able to outrun horsemen on foot. Not to mention, even if he could, he knew Lea and Kat could not.

So what other options were available? Nate was knew that the region they resided in must have other cities, other settlements. And the Drykas encampment looked to be mobile. If it moved close enough to such a city, perhaps he could grab his sisters and make a break for one? Nate remembered meeting a large, blue man in Syliras once, who said he was an "Akalak" from a city called "Riverfall", far to the south. If Riverfall was to ever become close enough to Endrykas, could he possibly make a run for it? And would they grant asylum to he and his sisters, and perhaps any other captives that were... less willing?

All questions he had no answers to. But Nate knew that it was certainly a much more solid plan of escape than just running and hoping to make it. Riverfall it was, then. The city of the Akalaks. He needed to learn more about it, see if they'd perhaps be willing to take in refugees. Nate sighed, going over the blade of his kukri like it was a nervous tick. Which it rather was, for him. This was still just a pipe dream. He didn't even know where exactly Riverfall was, and even if he did, his navigation was so poor he'd never make it there.

Nate wasn't even sure escape would be possible, at least for him. He knew Kat would not be eager to go. She seemed... more content here. And if the Drykas had their way, and she became pregnant, Nate knew for a fact that Kat would be absolutely immovable. And then there was Lea. Could Nate leave Lea behind, knowing Kat was already staying? The answer was obvious.

Nate filed the possibility of Riverfall into the back recesses of his mind. A possibility to think about and consider, perhaps. Maybe in a season or two, when running didn't also mean trudging though the bitter cold of Fall and Winter. In the meantime...

Nate heard Arundel before he saw her. Well, rather, he heard the horse. Heavier footfalls than he was used to hearing, approaching the pavilion. Funny how despite only hearing the steps of Arundel's beloved mare a few times, Nate had already grown to recognize her canter. And this was certainly not Juniper, that was for sure. So what unknown horse was this?

Nate decided to get up and take a look. After all, he wasn't doing anyone any good, including himself, by just sitting about and puttering. Pushing aside the flap of the tent, he saw Arundel's haggard form, her eyes almost bloodshot and her face taut and haunted. Something bad had happened out there, that was for certain.

Nate considered how he should respond to this. He could be his usual sarcastic self, but the fact was, there wasn't much funny about this. And he wasn't feeling particularly angry or nasty, just... contemplative. So he settled for a rather neutral expression on his face. Neither sympathetic, nor accusing.

"Did something happen?" he asked. As he recalled, Arundel had left that day with her usual mare. "What happened to Juniper?" he asked. Nate briefly wondered why he even cared. What did it matter what happened to Juniper? But the big mare had liked him, despite her master's obvious disapproval of such a thing. In Nate's book, that warranted at least a modicum of worry from him that she was missing.

[Arundel]

The two of them looked over as the entrance of the pavilion was disturbed. Domero watched on calmly as Nate emerged, but Arundel jumped. She felt like a skittish animal, and tried to wrestle her nerves into submission. But her hold was still fraying, and she met his curious eyes with her a peculiar stare. His tone she understood enough, but the second she heard Juniper's name the careful pieces she was trying to keep in place fell all around her. A lump formed in her sore throat, and clogged the airways in her nose. She took a deep, rattling breath through the mouth and looked away from him, trying not to lose it. Despite how hard she fought, the image of Juniper's mangled body swam to the forefront of her befuddled mind, and the dam once more broke.

The sound that came from her throat couldn't be considered human. It was the pained whimper of a beaten animal, starting low and growing in volume until she wailed in what sounded like physical pain. Tears flooded her eyes, spilling down her flushed cheeks and blurring her vision. Her grief was so heavy that it brought her down the grass. Arundel sat at Domero's feet, burying her face in unsteady hands to try and muffle to sickening sobs and wounded keening that kept wracking her body. Each breath was like a dry heave, but nothing came out except more choked sounds of mourning. Her Strider snorted nervously and quietly, lowering his head toward where she sat crumpled on the ground.

Arundel tried to answer Nate's question several times, but no words would come out. She fisted both hands in her wind-blown hair and pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face into the grass stained breeches to hide her distorted, twisted face. She took a deep, gurgling breath and choked violently on another sob, managing to grind out one word before the tears stole her voice once more. "Dead." It felt unrealistic to say it, even though she'd witnessed the event. It had been her own petching fault on top of that. Juniper was dead because of her ignorance and impreparation. A few people from the neighboring pavilions spilled out into the open to investigate the horrible wails. They huddled in small groups and whispered among themselves, worry etched on their curious faces as they watched her grieve in the dirt.

She hated herself even more for showing this weakness to them, and especially to Nathan. But she deserved this humiliation and so much more. "Dead," she whimpered again, holding herself together in a tight ball as if her body was fall apart like cracked ceramic. She rocked gently on the ground, feeling like a fool but unable to do anything else. A woman tried to move toward her, but she was pulled back by her husband. None of them had ever seen her in such a state, and the newness of this frightened them. Arundel had nary shed a tear in front of any of them, and here she sat in a heap choking on her own grief. It felt like tar in her chest and throat, thick and stifling. She had been able to be strong for Rue in the wake of her bonding, but that had all crumbled to dust.

OOCI'm not too happy with this post, but I hope I gave you enough to work with!

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Once again, Nate was faced with a situation that seemed to spiral far out of his control. The last time this had happened was when he'd come home, the night after the final, disastrous hunting trip with his father. It was the same sense of helplessness again.

He had to watch his mother crumble in front of him, like every support had been removed, and then there were the sobs... when he'd asked about Juniper he hadn't expected to revisit that day again. Antia's cries had been bad enough, but it was happening again. Why did this always have to happen around him? Was he cursed?

Nate had never seen Arundel like this. She was always fierce and fiery, never giving in to his taunts or showing any sort of reaction to his sarcasm. Frankly, he was surprised she'd put up with it this long; though admittedly, most people didn't get this sort of treatment from him.

Even back in Syliras, it was mainly for traders that tried to pull one over him, and never for such an extended period of time. And although Nate was a sarcastic, quippy person in general, he was rarely mean or cruel, so his behavior this season felt as foreign to him as this land did.

"Dead," was the only word she could choke out, and she sank to her knees, grief evident by her tone, her tears, and everything about her body. The fact that Juniper was dead saddened him for reasons he couldn't explain. She was just a horse, why did he care? Still, the mare had liked him, and had become an integral part of his life the last few days. Having spent a few days here he quickly realized how important horses were to the grassland people. Juniper's loss was clearly hitting Arundel hard, for her to crack in front of him like this.

Nate hated situations like this. He hadn't been able to do anything to help his mother. When she'd broken down, he'd stood rooted to the ground, mouth working but no sound emerging, eyes wide in panic and fear, not knowing what actions he should take. His sisters were off to the side, but he hardly noticed them as he watched his mother's crumpled form on the floor of their home, hopelessness washing over him like tidal waves. And that was what he felt here.

Even after all those years, even after dealing with bruised knees, twisted ankles, the odd cut or two, even after comforting his sisters when they cried and doing his utmost to being a good big brother, even after learning everything he could about medicine from every expert he could find, he still had no petching clue what to do.

Because every situation was different, and there was no magic cure that could fix this. And really, he was the last person who should try. Nate tried to remind himself that he hated it here, hated everything about it, hated her. But even as he did so, Nate knew he'd try anyway. He was a medic, trained to heal. It didn't matter how much he may or may not hate someone. A medic helped anyone in need.

Nate walked over, ignoring the curious onlookers that had left their tents to see what was wrong. He bent down to put an arm around her shoulders. Truthfully, he should have tried to do this with his mother, all those years ago. He should have tried something, rather than just stand there like an idiot and watch it happen. Because Nate had learned since then that doing nothing was also an action, also a choice, and carried with it its own set of consequences.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he soothed, his voice gentle. Nate shook Arundel slightly to encourage her to get back up. It wasn't healthy to be curled on the ground the way she was. She could grieve more within their tent, where perhaps a warm fire and some hot tea might make her feel better. At the very least, it was better than staying out here.

[Arundel]

The touch on her shoulder made her tense involuntarily. Her breathing hitched, and she looked unseeing up into Nate's face. Confusion washed over her, and his words brushed against the haze blanketing her mind, trying to coax some sort of reaction. She sat there for a long moment, shaking and hiccuping and looking an absolute mess. Curls clung to her tear soaked cheeks, and she wiped her runny nose with the back of her forearm. It was unladylike and ill-mannered, but so was the rest of her behavior. Juniper had been with her for years, and the sudden loss left a gaping wound in her heart that bonding with Domero could only temporarily hold together. It felt as if the lion had ripped into her instead. Her body hurt from crying, and much of the energy had left her after galloping back to Endrykas. Without the adrenaline, she had nothing.

Nathan's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, as if he spoke to a lost child. A part her felt like just that. The storm was raging all around, while Domero and Nate tried to pull her unwilling body from the depths. Her wide eyes spilled fresh tears down her cheeks, and the dust on her face had turned to a thin sheen of mud. Clothing stuck to her sweaty skin in all the wrong places, but cold chills ravaged her body. Grief had a way of making people physically ill, much like she was doing to herself. Rue had witnessed the initial breakdown, and now Nate got to contend with the fallout. Finally, her eyes registered some kind of recognition. She looked at the pavilion dully, wringing the hem of her shirt in her hands. "Okay," she whispered quietly between silent, painful hiccups.

Arundel let him help her up. She felt old and brittle, as if she'd aged a lifetime in a bell. She allowed herself to be led inside the large tent, and sat down beside the cold fire pit. Ashes from this morning lay almost dead, a remnant of their breakfast cookfire. The Drykas stared at the gray dust with disinterest and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Nate's movement caught her eye, and she watched him silently. Hiccups shook her shoulders and hurt her chest, but she managed to quiet the sobs. Tears flooded down her face in an endless current, and the lifelessness in her green eyes was absolute. The usual fire in them was gone - put out and cold like the ashes in the small pit in front of her.

The silence of the pavilion was welcome yet not at the same time. If her family were to converge on her in this state, she wouldn't be able to handle it. Arundel was grateful for Nathan's efficient and rock steady presence, though she could see how uneasy he was. His company was still a welcome necessity. Watching him gave her a little something to distract her mind with, as thoughts and memories swirled and snarled in her skull like a pair of rabid wolves. Arundel's eyes turned down as he passed by, focusing on her knotted fingers. Her face twisted into a grimace, and her shoulders trembled. When she finally spoke, her unsteady voice cracked with emotion. "My fault. A lion in the grass."

Guilt clung to her like heavy shackles. If she had been ready - somehow - then things would likely be different. How she could have prepared for such a situation, she wasn't sure. Perhaps having more weapons, or a bow. Rue had hit the lion with an arrow, but it was more of a distraction to the animal than any sort of damaging blow. Arundel had faced the beast down with a spear as it crouched atop Juniper's weakly struggling body, and challenged it to come after her instead. If Domero hadn't arrived when he had with the other Striders, she would likely be dead as well. Maybe that would have been a better alternative. Another chill gripped her as she recalled how the lion's lips had pulled back, revealing blood stained teeth. A small, cruel part of her hoped the beast died a long, painful death.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Nate waited for Arundel to respond, uncharacteristically patient. Well, that wasn't true. It was, in fact, quite characteristic of him, especially when faced with a patient going through trauma or grief. But when he was in Syliras, he never had to push back feelings of hatred or distrust, never had to remind himself of his first duty, never had to feel like there was a war going on inside him.

Every time Nate looked around, he was reminded of what happened to his sisters. What happened to him. How they had no choice but to be here, and that was what rankled him. If he and his sisters had chosen this, that would have been one thing. Nate was not certain he'd have chosen a life like this, roaming the plains in a tent city, a slave of the Drykas. But still, if he and his sisters had chosen it, then they would do their utmost to make the most of it.

But it wasn't his choice, and he resented that. Resented the fact that he was being forced into their culture against his will, that his sisters were held hostage to ensure his cooperation, that they were essentially walking wombs for the Drykas so that they could produce more Drykas. Perhaps not all Drykas treated the captives that way, but Nate had to assume most of them did. Because if they didn't, then they wouldn't need to capture people, did they?

So that part of his mind raged and fumed and roiled and burned, telling him to fight as hard as he could against the invisible chains they wanted to put on his mind. And so far it had been the dominant part of his heart, the part that made every word from his mouth drip with sarcasm and contempt, the part that drove him to look for any weakness in Endrykas' carefully crafted defenses, see if there was any opportunity he could use to grab his sisters and run.

But the other part of his heart fought against it. The part that had been taking care of Lea and Kat since their parents died. The part that drove him the very day after he returned from that hunting trip without his father to become a medic. The part that had then, and still now, drove him to help anyone in need. And when faced with someone clearly in need, Nate could shove the fire and rage into the back of his mind; lock them away.

Arundel could only whisper an assent between her sobs, as she eventually was able to shakily rise to her feet, letting Nate guide her gently back into the tent. The people surrounding them dispersed as he did so, but not before throwing him glances that Nate frankly could not comprehend. Did... did they seriously think...? If Arundel was not in such a state, he'd have laughed aloud at the absurd idea.

The tent was mercifully empty of people. Nate was not sure he'd be able to handle the rapid-fire Pavi that was sure to erupt if her family had been in here, pressing in on her like an unstoppable flood. Despite himself, he likely would have insisted they give her space, since he knew that would be the absolute last thing she needed at the moment. She just sat there, green eyes almost devoid of life, staring dully into the ashes of the cooking fire.

Nate did not say anything as he busied himself reigniting the fire, putting wood in the small area and striking flint and steel against each other to catch the tinder. After a few chimes, the fire crackled with a cheerful orange glow, but it did not seem to bring much cheer to Arundel, who continued to stare into the flames like there were answers in it.

Nate was not sure if there was anything to prepare tea with; he hadn't checked beforehand if there were any leaves or petals he could steep in the water. Not really finding any, he decided to simply heat some water for Arundel to drink. Crying, as he had discovered with his sisters, had a way of drying out the throat.

There was, as was usual, a small pot of water available. Probably for the preparation of food, or some other such purpose, but for now Nate simply was grateful that it was there. Taking it up and putting it over the fire, Nate made sure to secure the pot before letting the water sit. It would boil soon enough, and he'd be able to pour Arundel a cup.

"My fault. A lion in the grass." Lions. Wonderful. Nate sighed as he looked over to her. She really did look like a mess, tears streaming down her face and caking it with the dirt that was already on it. He took a nearby cloth, probably intended for the purposes of drying hands, and dipped it into the nearby bucket where he'd just gotten the water that was now heating over the fire.

Then, he squeezed the cloth slightly so that it was merely damp instead of wet, and went over to Arundel. She didn't seem to react to external stimuli, clearly still lost in her memory, so instead of handing the cloth to her he daubed her face with it himself, washing off the dirt and grime that had built up.

As he quietly cleaned Arundel's face with the cloth, he turned her words over in his mind. He couldn't understand it. It was clear, the lion had been the one to kill her horse, but Nate failed to see how Arundel could have prevented it. "A lion?" he echoed. "How could that have possibly been your fault?"

[Arundel]

Her mind had wandered back to the slaughter she had witnessed and failed to stop. Green eyes looked unseeing into the now strongly burning fire, unblinking and dull. Dozens of different outcomes played through her mind in a slideshow. If I had done this, then this might have happened. Or this. Or this. Or this! But it made no difference. Juniper's fate was sealed, and the Seme would return to the earth. She would return to the Web. A cool, wet sensation tugged her slowly from her thoughts. At first, when he eyes turned to Nate, she didn't react. They just lingered there, not really seeing. But as the sweat and dirty was gently cleaned from her cheeks, she returned to the now. The fire was warming her body, but in her core she still felt cold. It was all an emotional illusion, but felt real.

Nathan dabbed carefully at her forehead, clearing off her tan skin then wiping some more at the tracts her tears had left down her tired face. It was a soothing feeling, to be taken care of and cleaned. His face was concentrated, intense, but gentle. It was very rare, these moments she saw him like this. The times when he let his walls down, and was more or less unguarded. It seemed they were both being uncharacteristic. He was treating her kindly, and she was an emotional wreck. If she'd been able to muster the will, she would have smiled. But her mouth stayed a flat, unwavering line, except for when she gathered the energy to speak. "Not prepared. Few supplies. Only gone a bell. Not think need. Was wrong. Very wrong." Arundel's voice was harsh, and she internally snarled at her stupidity.

"Not be wrong again," she promised herself quietly. A stroke of the wet cloth along her jaw made her close her eyes. She tipped her head toward his hand, releasing a long, quiet sigh. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of her fatigue, and after a moment her eyes blinked open. She didn't look up at him, but kept her face down, bent into the cool cloth that was pressed against her cheek. A question struggled to the surface of her befuddled mind, fighting through the quagmire of her self-blame and drawing attention to itself. Arundel considered the thought for a few chimes, and finally put it into words. "Nate," she began hesitantly, finally looking up at him. Never had she called him that familiar nickname. It was always Nathan - never Nate. Her eyes were wary - the first sign of intelligent emotion in them since the lifelessness and grief. "I wish to... build cairn. Small, large, no care. Is for Juniper. Tomorrow morning, I go. Will go with? Help? Need help."

She was taking a leap, asking this of him. It was a very personal matter, to do this for the mare. One day, when she was able, she wished to tie the Web into the cairn and make an anchor. A sort of magic waypoint that would immortalize the mare in a different way.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Being wrong was something Nate was intimately familiar with, and something he absolutely loathed. And even though he didn't know the specifics of what happened, Arundel being too distraught to say much more than the broken words of Common she managed to force out and Nate not really feeling it was his place to push any further than he already had, he got the general idea.

So she had been out there, expecting to only be there for a bell and therefore didn't prepare for the arrival of a large predator. Maybe she didn't even have her weapon handy, though the fact that she was still alive implied she did. And she was blaming herself for her lack of preparation, or perhaps for not having done more, or just in general because Juniper died and she did not. It was a vicious cycle of self-blame that Nate was very familiar with.

Her conviction to not be wrong again reminded Nate of his own promise. That he'd never allow his ignorance to stand in the way of saving a life again, as banishing his ignorance was something he could control. In the end that was what was crucial: some things might be out of your hands, but others are not. You cry, you grieve, and then you pick yourself up and you do something about it.

For Nate, it had been medicine; the very day after the event he immediately volunteered to become a medic, regardless of cost or what sort of menial task they assigned him. And he was sure Arundel would need such a release too, whether physical or symbolic, before she could move on past this event. If someone had asked Nate what he was feeling at that moment he would honestly be unable to tell them. Was he sympathetic? Happy? Sad? All these things? None of these things? He couldn't say.

But it seemed like the weight of Arundel's emotions were still pressing down on her as her shoulders sagged and she leaned her face against his hand. Nate wasn't sure what to do in this circumstance; he might know of bedside manner as a medic but dealing with emotional trauma was not something he had a great deal of experience with. But her next word caught his attention.

She had called him Nate.

It wasn't a name that he really permitted anyone to call him except close friends and family. And as vulnerable as Arundel was right now, she was neither of those things. He seriously considered admonishing her, and his eyes flashed a warning to her when she looked at him, but ultimately decided that it was not worth making her feel even worse over a single slip up. However, he made a mental note to correct her if she should ever do that again. It was irrational, perhaps, but then emotional things often were.

But her request to go with her to build a cairn... that Nate could do. It was the act of closure he knew she'd need, like his own need to provide his father with a proper burial, his need to be there for it, contribute to the burial in some way so that he could, perhaps, assuage his guilt perhaps even a little.

"Yes, I'll help," Nate replied simply. "I will be there, I promise. But you need to rest."

She really did. Her entire body screamed her exhaustion from the day she had, and if she stayed awake while these dark thoughts were swirling in her head she'd never have the needed energy to build the cairn tomorrow. Nate put away the cloth, and gently tugged on Arundel's arm.

"Come on, Arundel," he suggested, as he tried to get her to stand and walk to the sleeping area of the tent. "We can talk more tomorrow."

[Arundel]

Relief flooded through her system, so much so that she managed to smile at him. If only he was this kind all the time. It seemed that Arundel needed to have some sort of traumatic event rock her to her core or sustain some kind of injury for him to be a pleasant person. Was it always going to be like this? Constantly fighting and knocking heads until one or the over gave in for a moment? Her smile faltered and then slipped back into a flat line. She nodded to him once, then looked back down at her knotted fingers. She forced her hands to move, at least for a moment, and twist into the gesture for thank you.

Nathan set down his cloth, now dirty from the grime washed from her face, and gave a gentle tug on her arm. She frowned, having no real desire to leave the warm fireside. Arundel was about to pull away and protest, but surely that would ruin his kind mood. She stared at him for a long moment, wondering how long it would last before she finally allowed herself to climb to her feet. A rustle at the entrance of the pavilion made her pause, and Domero slipped his head inside. A low, curious nicker greeted them before he carefully slid the rest of the way into the tent. It wasn't uncommon for horses to come into pavilions, especially to get out of bad weather, and it seemed her Strider didn't want to leave her alone.

Her face warmed a little at the devotion from the horse. Her family had tried to explain the bond held between a Drykas and Strider - how it felt - but words couldn't do it justice. He had chosen her and was already reluctant to leave her in such a state. Any other horse might have been uncertain in sensing the turmoil in her, but surely it wouldn't go to such an extent as coming inside and cross the room to stand by them. Even as she allowed Nathan to escort her to the curtained off area that she and her sisters shared, Domero followed. Inside they went, into the dim sleeping room. Three separate areas for three sisters, all piled high with blankets and soft pelts. Nathan coaxed her over to her spot, and now looking forward to a rest, she sank onto the soft warm pile.

Half-curled on her side, she looked up at him. The new Strider shuffled close and even went so far as to settle down beside her bed. His long muscular legs tucked beneath him and he grunted as he settled on the ground, tilting his gray head toward her. She smiled and felt a fresh batch of tears welling, but tried to push them back and swallow the lump in her throat. "Thank you," she told Nathan in her uncertain Common, voice rough and gravelly with a confusion concoction of emotions. It was overwhelming, being grief-stricken yet happy at the same time. Losing Juniper yet gain Domero all in a matter of ticks had taken its toll, and she needed to try and rest.

Her eyes wandered to the Strider lying by her bedside. His big sides rose and fell with deep, steady breaths. She could easily fall asleep listening to that - much like a lullaby. But she suddenly remembered something, seeing his cheek. He hadn't come out of the fight with the nightlion unscathed. Long claw marks marred his grullo cheek, furrowing the skin in deep slashes. Arundel pushed herself up so she was sitting, and motioned at Nathan before he could leave. "Wait!" she pleaded, slipping accidentally into Pavi. Flustered, she corrected herself and reverted back to Common. "He is hurt. Can help, yes? Lion claws on cheek." Arundel scooted over to the Strider, pulling his head close to her body and embracing him. His warm breath heated her skin where it caressed, and she felt her body relax a little more.