She continued to lean against him, trying to support his struggling frame. It was something she could distract herself with. She immersed herself in the minute swaying of their bodies, the quiver of his muscles as they strained, the soft rise and fall of his sides as he breathed. In her concern she nearly forgot the throbbing upon each inspiration she endured, but she ignored it. She had felt worse before, and she could survive this.

There was only so much strength the painted stag had, and finally he collapsed. It was fluid and heavy, and as he fell from her, as he crumbled and gave up, her heart fell to pieces with him. This was not the Ashamin she knew. She knew him as calm and steady, a rational dreamer. He was not a volatile thing like she was, and his kindness was what dulled her edges. She wanted to be a delicate thing for him. She was willing to change everything, and though the star girl had no idea why, she wanted to be what he wanted.

What blossomed in her chest when she was with him was patient. It was kind. It did not boast, nor was it a proud or envious thing. It did not have a name, at least not one she would say out loud, but it was there. It was a rose bud ready to burst.

She stepped around him gingerly before lowering herself to the cold ground, laying beside him. It scared her deep down, watching the noble and gentle haruspex lie in a bloody heap beneath the dying Tallsun sky. She hushed him, the gentle shhhh uttered from her lips calming and motherly. She spoke in the silence he left as he trailed off. "No one is at fault, darling, especially not you. I did not intend for my blade to be a weapon against you. But I cannot change back the time, only our god can do that."

He slumped farther down, and in her desperation she shifted closer. Folding her legs neatly in front of her, she arched her neck and pulled his head onto her knees. She worried for him, and he needed a place to rest his head that wasn't the dirty permafrost disrupted by their dancing. He deserved better. She pressed her nose against him, trying to soothe him, a soft caress to say I'm here, I'll always be here, I'll keep you safe while you're down. Her lids fluttered shut to hide her silver eyes, and she breathed him in. The buck smelled like everything she loved. He smelled of sweat and blood and battle, but deeper down beneath the scent of their spar, he smelled of pine and snow and stone. He smelled like the world around her. He was everything perfect about this place, and she couldn't help but think he was the right to her wrong. He was a safe place in a world of uncertainties. He was the one who, despite their condition or relationship, she could come home to.

Confusion washed over her as he continued to speak. Someone different? Someone strong? Who ever said that's what she wanted? Who ever said he wasn't? Wasn't it proof enough in their first encounter, when a winged shadow dropped from the night into their home, that she needed someone like Ashamin to cool her fire, to be diplomatic when she was ready for war? He had nothing to prove to her. He was Ashamin, and that was a perfect thing to be.

Ignoring his comment, she slowly nodded. "Yes, you need a healer. But I can't find one. I can't... I can't leave you. I won't leave you, unless I need to. Unless you want me to. Perhaps Lochan, he can find someone." She didn't want to separate Ashamin from his companion, and she certainly didn't enjoy their solitude with the current circumstance. She looked at the cerndyr, eyes pleading, hoping he understood, hoping perhaps he would be the one to find help.

The blue draped her neck over Ashamin's. She was quiet for some time. What could she say? What should she say? It felt like the wrong time. The words felt heavy in her mouth, and sour on her tongue. She swallowed them. What she finally formulated may have not been the most direct, but it was the best she could do. "You should not desire to be anything different than what you are. Though the bee and the flower are different, the bee..." She faltered, second guessing herself. A soft sigh escaped her, and she buried her muzzle into his tangled mane. "Well, the bee would love the flower no other way."

That was it. That was all she had to say, all she could say. He had no obligation to answer or reciprocate, and she didn't expect him to. And as each painful breath burned through the energy she had in reserve, she knew they needed a healer. She would find a way to repent for her transgressions against him. She would find the words to say, and the actions to show.

But right now she was at a loss, and in her time of need, she could think of no way to remain stoic and emotionless as a corporal should be.

Instead, all she could do was feel.

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