Silver Creek tell me, do we get what we deserve?

Zada moved closer as soon as the girl flopped down, setting about first cleaning the worst of her wounds. She was gentle but firm, and she knew the cleaning would hurt some. She pressed against Brienne to provide warmth, gently washing away the grime from her wounds, then from the rest of her.
Zada wasn't invasive with her cleaning, only touching on the areas that needed it the most. As she cleaned, she listened, digesting every word and not pausing to comment until it seemed the delicate girl was finished with her outburst of emotion.
I'm sorry, little one. For a moment, she could not look at her-- she had paused from cleaning her neck to say it, eyes fixed on the horizon. No answer I can give will soothe the hurt, just as it would not heal your wounds.
Pine-colored eyes met dynamic blue-- all at once she saw steel, ice, the ocean.
But no one deserves to feel that. Zada asserted fiercely. Words didn't seem enough, so she bent her head and pressed her muzzle into the girl's neck softly. It was a small point of contact, but she hoped it would offer some comfort.