He hummed sympathetically as she turned to him, the wet marks on her cheeks as plain as the horn on her nose. He felt a lump in his throat and his own eyes becoming misty as she looked at him. He was relieved when she looked away. Is he always in a place to hold someone else's grief? Would maybe someday someone would hold his?
"I am afraid not." He replied and watched her go in. Eltrys felt torn, to continue on his hunt or to keep her company. Perhaps he should stay with her, to be alone in our grieving sometimes renders the wound infected and difficult to heal...
He took a heavy breath and cautiously approached. He nosed his way into the shelter, eyeing the carnage. He didn't want her to assume his presence malicious.
"I'm terribly sorry you've had to endure this." He nosed a broken thing together. A sad state. "I am Eltrys of Ethne, I seem to have missed your name."
"What was your favorite memory here?" He asked warmly, gently helping her sort a few things.
Knight
Professor
