She was warming his heart with her words as the soup warmed his belly. She promised him a world outside of what he knew. He wanted to believe it, but his mind was still so far gone, he couldn't make sense of his thoughts. He wasn't even sure if he was really there. He could still be in the pen, curled up, waiting to die. This illusion before him seemed too good to be true, a gorgeous kind woman, showing him compassion, wanting to free him of his shackles, and to show him the world he's never seen. He didn't know this kindness, and it frightened him. Part of him wanted to believe she was just an illusion, and part of him wanted her to be real.<br/><br/>His pain still shook through his body. His muscles convulsed and contracted as he swallowed a spoonful of the soup, almost choking on it. It stopped, and his body relaxed, letting him take another sip of the soup.<br/><br/>"My name- is Na'el," he whispered as talking was too much for him. He mustered up some strength for the rest. "That... is what Lady Malora called me. I do not know my birth name... mistress."<br/><br/>Even though she asked it of him, he couldn't bare the thought of calling her by her name only. It was foreign to him, and he felt fear at the thought of it. Anything besides 'my lady' or 'my mistress' was followed by a beating, always. She began to ramble on about his new life, and asking him several questions. He didn't hear most of them. The pills did help keep the soup down though. As she strummed the lute, he felt his eyes heavy. The warmth and comfort of the bed was getting to him. Without thinking, he gently placed his hand into hers, and he passed out-