She made no move to help the two humans as they rescued those from within the home; she had done all she’d been asked to. Chris had merely wished for her assistance in finding a way into the home, he had never asked for her to rush into the flaming and collapsing piece of lumber and carry a few screaming children out of it. Which was good, because she may have refused. Not only did she have little to no interest in saving their lives, but she could not withstand the hands of the children and mother all over her, touching her bare skin. It would be her downfall and the events that would follow such a thing would probably leave none within this snowy valley alive. There was a reason she rarely spent time in the company of others, even though somehow the Halfling constantly found herself thrown into strange adventures she would rather not participate in.
As both Molotov and Christoph stumbled from the smoke ridden house, she did nothing but place The Rot Slayer once more upon her back. They dropped their precious little bundles and one by one they rushed over to the farmer, injured more by Christoph than any action she had taken upon him.
Words broke the silence, the apologetic kind but she knew they weren’t aimed at her. Whether or was Molotov or the ground of traumatized humans huddling close together and watching the remained of their house crumble and burn she didn’t know, nor did she really care. Chris’s behaviour was beginning to fluctuate too much and it was worrying her slightly. When she had first met him, he seemed like another hood Samaritan, the kind that went out of his way and even put himself into harm’s way just to help another person. Then it had shifted into something cold, something that felt little towards that of other people and had been willing to show that to those around him. But now even as he sat within the snow it becoming something new once more, as if he was trying to find a balance between the light and this growing darkness within him.
Drawing in a large quantity of the cool and smoke filled air, the Halfling grabbed her cloak from the snow and quickly wrapped it around her body, shielding it from the wind, even though the heat of the flame was keeping her warm enough. Then she picked up her rucksack and placed it upon her back once more upon her back, wondering if the bundle within was angry at her for having dropped him so roughly. The wounds she had already gained from the sharpened shards of burning wood were healing if not completely healed. They left nothing but a trace of her dark, blue blood upon her flawless, pale skin.
“The caravan headed South...”
Walking over to the human, she extended her hand to help him up from the snow.
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