Firefly Glen the fireflies, our only light in paradise

Gawain's attention refocued back on the woman, he believed, as she caught sight of him, his eyes finding hers in the darkness. Though he stood a good distance away, he could feel the fear radiating off of her, and his chest clenched with a pain that bounced off of his ribcage. He knew that look. He had been the cause for that look far too many times, and seeing it once again made something in him crack just a bit. A soft whine slipped from his throat before he could mask it, and he quickly cleared his throat to cover it. 

The young wolf hesitated, unsure how to proceed, but certain that he had to help, somehow, he had to. Gawain decided that his words, right now, at least, were not something that could possibly be of help. He'd never been great with his tongue, never had the ability Mauri did to deliver quick-witted quips, he certainly wouldn't be able to talk the woman down now. Instead, he relied soley on his body language, making himself small- or as small as his huge frame could be- and lowered his tail, tentatively raising a paw, looking to the bedraggled stranger silently for permission to move forward. His eyes were soft, and his throat remained tight, emotion welling in him despite how much he tried to quell it. The yearling did his best to ignore it though, to ignore how familiar the woman seemed and instead to focus on helping her, if he could.