Noctisardor Bypass the last few drops from the holy grail

"if you die because you stay, you won't be worth anything to anyone," heda said, at last turning her slim muzzle over one angular shoulder to glance at the metalman and his stoic jaw. her gaze did not soften, not in truth, but something besides hardness replaced the expression. observation, perhaps, mingled with a more specific wariness.
she was not so badly off as druid, and weeks of good, consistent food had restored a blush to her pallor, but the woman's thin frame still highlighted the blown curves of a secret's evidence. 
"for him, leave."
or —
"or stay. you could ask this time." a hunter was never unwelcome, but she doubted glaukos would let the man exist. he had promised the very opposite. 
and druid; why should she make any decisions?
"or you could trust me and go find someone to help my sister." a trade. anselm had options. heda knew from brief, bitter experience that the shadowed man would choose the hardest path.