Bundled in a red sheet of thick fabric, Arabella's eyes remained shut, breathing quickly instead of deeply.
Her bruised and bloodied features quivered under the layers of tears she had shed.
Silas put so much care in every motion, as little as it was, lest he break the frail scale that barely held her on the verge between life and death.
His hand very gently went under her head to lift it off the cushion the soldiers had bothered accommodating her with.
First things first, the collar and leash around her neck had to go. The man ripped it off with great ease and tossed it without any heed, as far away from them as possible.
The further the better, he thought.
"Arabella," he whispered as if speaking any louder would shatter her, "Please, open your eyes,"
His second hand hovered over her face, afraid to connect for the same reason he remained wary of jostling her too much.
