Luke took hesitant steps toward the woman, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were seeing. Rationally, he knew she wasn't the person he feared. Her clothes were different. Her hair was different.
But reason no longer mattered.
Until he saw the face, he couldn't breathe.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he finally reached her. Kneeling beside the motionless figure, he gently turned her onto her back.
"Ah..."
A shaky breath escaped his lips, one he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.
It wasn't...
It was Roxanne's mother.
She was barely alive. Her face had gone deathly pale, and a deep gash across her stomach soaked her clothes with blood.
Luke didn't hesitate.
Whether she was family or not was irrelevant.
She was dying.
He immediately pressed both hands against the wound to slow the bleeding before uncorking a healing potion.
"Drink this. You'll survive."
Supporting her head, he carefully poured the potion between her lips.
Nothing happened.
