Winter Moon

Something truly awful must have happened to this man to make him this way. Alarik watched, his heart aching, as the poor creature trembled and fought against whatever demons plagued his mind. He still wanted to reach out to him somehow, but feared that would only make things worse. When the man started to say he was sorry, over and over, Alarik stepped closer. "Shh... you don't have to be sorry," he whispered, and carefully he brushed up against his side just to offer some sort of comfort and warmth. Then, very gently, Alarik touched his nose to his cheek. "Don't be sorry."

He wanted to know what haunted this poor man, so he could better understand how to help him. It wasn't personal, and he certainly didn't have any ulterior motives. This was Alarik. He prided himself on being a man of honor, always willing to help those in need. And this stranger was in need. "Shhhh..." he whispered again, hoping the sound would ease his anxiety, if only slightly. "I'm here to help you. It's going to be okay."