Firefly Glen watch the flames burn auburn on the mountainside

The pain brought a strange clarity to him; for the first time in days he became aware of his surroundings-- not a moment too soon. Jerrik both heard and scented the approaching stranger before he saw her. His eyes flitted to the source, and he blinked once, twice. A girl.
When she spoke, he was at first uncertain of how to respond. What should he think of this?
The golden king was silent for a moment, studying her intensely with eyes washed out to a dim blue-grey by his grief. She was soft-coated, patches of striking warm tones against neutral colors-- but instantly that was forgotten when he met her gaze. The strangely pale golden hue instantly enchanted him, and he murmured almost inaudibly: Tilor.
Then he tilted his head, struck by the urge to say something that would make her stick around. Her overwhelming beauty was like a salve to his wounds-- he suddenly desperately wished to see her features alight. Such was his infatuation that he was reminded of a similar situation; he couldn't quite recall the details of it... but it seemed so similar. No matter-- his worries were forgotten in the presence of one so like the rising sun.
My lady. He dipped his head, not rising. You appear in my darkest hour; an angel born of the light, surely. May I know your name, Tilor?