Morningside Cuesta tamon

A charnel house. Anselm eyed the slope distrustfully as Heda slipped down it, following in mince-step.  She set to work, gristle riming her cheek and flank. He was unmoved, up until she slipped. 

It was strange how quickly he reached for her — and caught himself just before he was to catch her. He shook his ruff out and turned, ashamed by the lingering feeling he felt die between them. Are you alright?