"I'm sorry," she murmured, her gaze fixed on him, searching for any sign of warmth in his distant and intimidating demeanor. His response was a simple nod, leaving her feeling even more uncertain.
She blinked, swallowed hard, and then wrapped the silk mattress cloth around herself, seeking comfort in its embrace. She lay sideways, her eyes locked on him, unable to tear herself away despite the growing distance between them.
"You shouldn't have tagged along," he whispered, his eyes remaining closed, "you are injured, this isn't good for our health."
"You are not the one to tell me that. I can decide what I want," she snapped, regretting why she said that, but then, he asked for it. Couldn't he see that she was trying to help him out of his state? When he looked like he needed someone to talk with, which he still wouldn't open up, now, what was with this attitude?
