When Mina offers her ability to heal them, Declan and Fen immediately turn their attention to her for a brief moment of surprise.  "That's a rare talent," says Declan, nodding... "best heal those burned and still bleeding first."<br/><br/>Hearing Mina's offer to  Ox, Declan perks up a bit, observing the elven fighter's reaction with deference to the man's risk for the girls, the blood he's shed.  When he declines, Declan swallows and clears his throat, lifts his hand and smiles with white teeth-- before he can speak, Fen's stern grimance is a firm 'no', to which he simply frowns and wipes his stubbled jaw with the back of his hand with disappointment.  "Fine.<i>Mum.</i>"<br/><br/>Fen takes out her a canteen from her kit and dampens a bandage, and begins wiping down Cris' grimy face with it.  Cris responds by angling her face toward the touch, open-mouthed, breathing heavily as she few water droplets cool her skin.  When Mina heals the girl's wounds, the girl's body seems to writhe against her touch, and her hand reaches for Mina's own-- unable to cling to it, slipping free, but the intent was there to hold to her.  "She's just... been through too much," Declan offers in an attempt to helpfully explain the obvious, though the girl's heavy breathing and the languid roll of her muscles under the cloak are... well... not<i>necessarily</i>pitiful, or worrisome... in fact, they're almost sensual, as if she's torn between a fever-dream and fantasy.<br/><br/>Hearing Malia's words, Fen remains mum, and Declan's eyebrows soften from their tight knot of concern for a brieft moment.  "You're actually sorry for us?"  He smirks,"That's something alright... what we mean is you're with us, and things won't be easy, but you're not alone, alright?"  He refocuses his gaze on Malia, then Mina and Ox in turn... "I can't figure it out, Fen."<br/><br/>Fen has wiped Cris' face mostly clean of the grime, but cool water from her canteen but the young woman still breathes heavy and slow, and swallows, twists the cloak in her hands.  "It's what we saw.  At the end."<br/><br/>"You think it was... him?"<br/><br/>"A reflection.  But close enough.  Too close."<br/><br/>"Gods' blood."  Shaking his head, Declan sees Oxenbridge's fury seething, then meets Mina's eyes where fractured shards of her spirit float about like the swirling flecks of glass in a fancy snow-globe in a rich person's home.  Then to Malia, where the hurt and the fear are burning with something else entirely.  "It's hitting Malia too, I think.  Whatever it did."<br/><br/>Fen curses in Sylvan, then as if on queue the gently rocking and bumping wagon suddenly jars to one side as the cartwheel catches a particularly vicious obstacle.  Fen's curse is repeated more harshly, like an animalistic squeak of fury, as the passengers are thrown roughly together in a mess, the glowing chip of light falling among the hay muting most light, casting their shadows along the wet canvas walls and ceiling.<br/><br/>"Fak!" says Declan as he bangs on the front of the carriage.  There's no driver to hear him, however... he knows this.  "Sorry.  Shouldn't be more than half an hour or so..."<br/><br/>