The heavy tread of boots alone would not have made her turn, but the dragging sound, and the sensation of familiarity made her twist, looking toward the doorway even before they appeared, the warrior bloodied and all but pulsing with the pain of beating and bruises.<br/><br/>They had come for her... and this was the result.<br/><br/>She was twisting in the cage without realizing it, one hand clinging to the bar and the other reaching out toward the warrior, fingers stretching and splayed - her readiness to try to heal him automatic, but her first whispers of prayer were stopped by the hissing laughter of that voice, and the gut-wrenching writhe of the collar upon her throat.<br/><br/>Gasping low at the sensation, her hand tightened, her gaze meeting the young warrior's for a moment; she knew him, as she knew all those who had dedicated themselves to protection in their Lady's service. "Please," she whispered in her own language, "I cannot help you. You must get up!"