The options of dying where he laid, being painfully dragged to his sickbed, being aided into his sickbed, or walking of his own free will were analyzed with noteworthy focus through the vapors of his scattered conscious. There was a moment after Willow's pause that he occupied with his considerations...and then he began to feebly draw his quaking limbs beneath him. If only he didn't weigh so much! Wobbling, though stable enough to move, he let his head hang almost low enough that his nose skimmed the surface of the earth. He could rise and march in mechanic dutifulness but there was scant else in his current range of ability.
"Lead," he said in a whisper soft acknowledgement. He was prepared to let her command him as she saw fit.
set by Emy