Ford tried not to stare at Mia too much. He was worried about her more than he wanted to say out loud, but so far she'd ignored or snapped at each of his concerns.
Anaisa cooked the evening meal while Mia stared into the fire Ford had built with dead wood.
Her eyes were hollow, her blinks slow with heavy lids. He could clearly see she was beyond tired.
Jumping to his feet, he did chores that normally would have fallen to her. He curried her horse, laid out her bedroll, since the group decided in the interest of mobility that tents wouldn't be used tonight, and tried everything to make her evening as easy as possible.
She didn't notice, continuing to hang on the verge of unconsciousness as she sat with her knees pulled up to her chin.
He wasn't entirely sure she would stay awake long enough to eat.
"Do you want to lay down before supper?" He suggested as a last-ditch effort to get her to give in to her exhaustion.
