Over and over again he repeated his need.

"We need a healer." She wouldn't leave him.
"We need a healer." She was too stubborn.
"We need a healer." She was too distracted. Selfish. Anchored. Consumed. Over and over he said it, but she was so absorbed in the notion and fear and emotion, she couldn't peel herself away to do what was necessary or appropriate.

He pulled away from her, heaving himself up. The smallest sigh of relief slipped from between her teeth. He could stand, and had the spirit left to draw himself off the frozen ground. She heaved herself up, groaning as she did so, feeling the ache blossom in her muscles from their struggle. But what she came to face after she spilled her heart in the only way she knew how, was totally unexpected.

He lashed out at her. His words shook her, reaching into the cavity of her ribs and reducing her heart to rubble. The world around her sputtered to a stop, and the ringing in her ears deafened her. Her mouth opened, but no words spilled out. No repetitive apologies, no justifications, no answers. She didn't expect him to return the sentiment, but the anger in his response caught her breath in her throat, and threatened to choke her.

He was right. He was unbelievably right. His words were like a kick in the teeth, a slap to wake her from a daze. "Fine." It was a solid resounding 'fine,' a definitive agreement. 'Darling' was what she called people. It was a term of endearment, sure, but not a word reserved for him. She was hurt, and in her desperation to distance herself immediately from the situation, she allowed a chasm to erupt between them, splitting herself from the piece that had begged for her to be soft for someone, the piece that had been hidden away but emerged when the unexplainable happened with Ashamin.

She mirrored his movements, stepping away from him. She wanted to run, but she stayed tethered. "You're right," she said, voice dry and face stoic. "We don't know anything about one another. But how about this, haruspex. Rarely I am wrong, and when I am, I never repeat the same mistakes. So no need to worry, it won't happen again." I will not share my feelings. I will not be weakened by emotion. I will not bear my soul, I will not open up, I will not deviate from who I am. I will not ever make this mistake again.

When Lochan returned, the ram-headed buck who followed in his wake was the last person she wanted to see. She snorted, turning her head. Nox worked his magic, fussing over the more critical stallion, before turning back to her and gesturing to a leaf covered in an assortment of herbs and remedies. "Thanks for being so specific," she mumbled, before turning to leave. She did not need his help. She would find her own healing.

The star girl turned her head, looking to catch black eyes one more time. She had no kindness to share, no pleasantries to end their ordeal cordially. "I am sorry about your leg, but it's a price you were willing to pay. Welcome to war, storyteller."

With that she made her exit, the smoothness of her strides stained with pain from her ribs, hiding the pain and insult that lurked much deeper than the naked eye could see.

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@Mortuus Nox ~