Meadowlark Prairie whatever's lost cannot be found

His eyes narrow ever so slightly — there is a fire in her he can appreciate, one that mimics that of his sister. But she is cautious about him, rightfully so — he did not earn his scars for doing nothing — and she seems to sway as she walks, both her and him knowing she would not make it far before her feet collapsed beneath her. He turns, facing her rear as she attempts to leave him where he stands. "You could, or I could show you where the water flows," Perhaps, he thinks for a moment, he is being too gentle. Was there a point in delaying the inevitable by offering her life? Perhaps not, however, he had learned from the slaying of Rannoch and what followed and knew that a hasty decision was best made in comfort. If he was to slit her throat, he had to be absolutely sure that he needed her dead, not because of what emotional toll that would take on him (it wouldn't) but the potential aftermath of that action.