He grunted wordlessly as she kneaded his shoulders, eyes closed and focused entirely on the comfort. His head turned, and he put one hand over hers, squeezing briefly as she rubbed. "We will," he agreed softly. "But for now, we'll rest. Stop it with my shoulders, though, I'm okay. Come here." He turned more toward her and gently tugged her over, then instructed her to lay down with her head resting on the blankets they'd dug out. He sat at her hips, her legs in his lap, and got to work massaging them. He'd noticed how she'd been moving a bit stiffly before, and wasn't about to sit there accepting comfort while she was in pain.<br/><br/>While he had her there, he opened yet another pouch on his belt and took out a small vial full of ointment. He carefully applied it to the abrasion on her skin, his touch soft and careful, and when it was done he resumed his massage, working his way down each leg, working out the tension in every inch of muscle and tendon he could find. By the time he was done the food had finished, and he carefully handed her one of the cans, wrapped in a small towel to keep from burning her, along with a spoon to eat with. He sat back with his own meal, still with her legs in his lap, and let his eyes settle on the soft light coming from the center of the tent. "Have you considered what will happen if they refuse to let me in? If you can't convince them to trust me, or the other Striders?"