The dark haired man couldn’t see her, but he could hear her shift her weight, the change in her breathing as she calmed down. Though the thin skin of her wrist, which he still held tightly to, he could feel her pulse slow, less erratic and panic stricken. His own breath held in his throat, only releasing when she finally spoke, promising to help him get home. Back to his sweet little sister, the darling girl who wanted nothing more than to see her brother smile. For her he could hold it together. He had to find his lifemate, but Valla made the waiting more bearable.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff"> “Thank… you.”</span>he whispered, the words feeling strange in his mouth. He wasn’t used to being so vulnerable, especially without any of their natural defenses.<br/><br/>When she asked him to trust her, he was almost taken aback by the determination in her voice, slowly letting go, convinced that the moment he released her arm, she’d flee. But as his hand fell away, he didn’t hear her shift into another form. She didn’t run, or back away. Instead he heard move around a little, before being startled by the sounds of tearing fabric. The cave they’d found themselves in was a bit lower than the others, floodwater washing soil down in here, trapping it in the small basin while the water drained away through cracks in the rocks. It was the only reason he’d survived, either miraculously guided here by the smell of rich soil in his desperation to survive, or by the grace of the mother goddess and the fates themselves. In his half dazed state, he was beginning to wonder if the woman with the gentle voice was in fact the mother goddess, here to protect him when he could not save himself.<br/><br/>He couldn’t help but feel ashamed, knowing she was looking him over and studying him. He wasn’t as strong as some of the others, more lithe and slender, designed for dodging rather than taking a hard hit. Something he’d obviously failed to do. He knew from breathing that several of his ribs were broken, along with one of his arms. He had a deep gash in his abdomen and scratches across his back from branches as he had fallen. The bone from his left shin had sliced through the meat of his leg, jutting out awkwardly from his skin. His other leg was broken as well, but not nearly as badly. It was a long time before he’d spoke, having almost looked like he had passed out again.<br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff"><br/>
“What is your name?”</span>