Northstar Vale The little deaths are a little less, even if just for a moment

Her muted response left Warbone with a feeling of intense guilt. It jarred him if only because he wasn't use to feeling perturbed over his own actions. They always felt justified in the moment, and he had always treated his mistakes as such. Things he wanted to take back, he never would, simply because that was the way he had felt at the time. But the moment had passed so quickly this time, that the afterglow of regret had come to him stiflingly early. He knew he should be caring for her, not berating her, and in wondering why he'd done so, he found that it was because he was afraid to lose her. More afraid of losing her than he had been of losing the Keep, which he had threatened Stark for.

It had all been out of fear, and the only way he knew how to handle such an intense emotion was to lash out -- with his words when he couldn't do so physically. He whined softly, edging closer, but not yet daring to try and clean her once more. He didn't think he could take it if she shied away from him again. He thought maybe they should try to walk to a water source, but she seemed too weak, and once she had some food in her, they would probably have an easier time of it.

The whine in his throat heightened and then deepened into a groan as he realized his own shortcomings in this situation, unable to find any words thereafter except a rather pitiful: "I was not right to threaten you."