"Crying helps," she told him. Her voice was warming his heart again. He couldn't help it as another tear rolled down his cheek, and another. He cried, holding this woman close to her. A comfort in this heightened state of despair. Everything was coming to him like a train without breaks making a sudden turn. He'd been given up by the woman who he thought he loved, of which the love was driven purely by fear and lust. He was thrown to the side like some common stray dog, and beaten to near death. All the beatings, the tortures, and why? What had he done so wrong, except tried to please Lady Malora to his best of abilities. He wasn't good enough for her, and that is why he was tortured. He tried as best as he could to please her, to make her happy at every moment of every day. He wanted her to be happy. He'd lived his life to serve, and to get satisfaction out of his mistress' happiness, and only that. Then he was thrown away, he was nothing but a rotten tomato in the trash.<br/><br/>He cried some more, but here he was with a woman he still wasn't sure existed, a woman who seemed too kind and gentle to be true. She wanted to show him a world he feared his whole life. A world outside of his nights of passions. It made him feel uncomfortable, frightened... but he held a bit of hope that it would be true. He hoped that this woman before him, this beautiful fox girl who held him so tenderly with her arms, would be there by his side as she showed him this world.<br/><br/>He rested his tear laden cheek against the side of her warm soft neck. His lips above the skin, he wanted to kiss it. He wanted to feel her warmth on his lips. But he dared not to, as he hadn't been given permission. In fact he was surprised to even be in her arms, and to be this close to her. Perhaps she was different. Perhaps she was real and truly who she said she was. He still didn't know.