He was mumbling something she couldn't make out. The helmet he wore now rested on the ground just in front of his knees. He clasped it with both his hands as he hunched over, pressing down on it as if trying to support himself with it. His face was dirty, and soot smudges covered his face, sprinkled with dried in mud. Thin streaks ran down his cheeks, disrupting the mask of filth, and he had dark, red rings around his eyes. His hair stood out in random tufts from where he had pulled at it. It had been an awfully long time since she had seen a look quite so haunted on someling's face, which unnerved the changeling for reasons besides the obvious.