"I'll take care of her. As if she were my own sister." He knew better than to qualify promises with a dying man. He stayed at his side when the girl--Malia, he reminded himself dully--approached, only shifting to look away and to give them more privacy. He scanned the trees and bushes for any sign of the hunter, cautious and nervous. He couldn't move the body<i>and</i>fight, and he wasn't about to leave the man out in the woods with his sister crying over him.<br/><br/>He looked back when she addressed him and sighed softly. "In a moment. Once the medicine sets in I'll help you bring him back. But listen to me, Malia. There's nothing anyone in Little Lake can do for him now. Including me." Except for dig a grave, which Carson himself would gladly do. He had come here to try and prevent this kind of senseless death, to try and bring stability to the townspeople. Instead he had only just arrived and one of them was dying. If they had disliked him before they would be sure to resent him now. He looked back to Oliver, certain that the medicine should be taking effect any second now. It was designed to do so, to quickly and swiftly numb pain. It had a price--but Oliver was already paying it in full. "I'm sorry," he told them both quietly. "I should have been more prepared."<br/><br/>After another moment he moved, turning to lift the dying man in his arms. He was gentle and careful, and when he began walking he cut through the trees, walking for the clear and empty road that ran alongside the forest, the same one he'd taken to reach Little Lake. Better to be out in the open than in the trees with a killer.