His voice was weary, laced with frustration, and he stared straight ahead, supporting her as he walked. Perhaps wishing he was in battle instead of playing nursemaid to a wounded girl?
"Go scout," Gavril said. "Leave me to get your Keeper to safety. You may disapprove of my methods later."
Daigo stopped in front of him, so close that Gavril--his gaze on the horizon--nearly tripped over him.
"Blast it, Daigo! Can't you see I'm supporting your Keeper? Trip me and you trip her. Let me get her where we're going."
Daigo let out a plaintive yowl.
"Keeper?" Gavril said. "Can you please tell your wildcat that blocking my path does not help either of us?"
Moria knew Daigo was trying to tell Gavril that she was wounded, and they needed to stop.
"Daigo, please," she said. "We're almost there."
Daigo stalked back into the grass but stayed close, anxiously monitoring their progress.
When they finally reached the farmhouse grounds, Moria's legs gave out, and she collapsed, dead weight, startling Gavril enough that he dropped her.
"Blast it," he said, helping her to her feet. "We're almost there. I need you to just take a few more--"
He stopped and slowly withdrew his hand. It was covered in blood.
"No," he whispered.
He lowered her to the ground, cursing more. He fumbled to open her cloak. It stuck to her side, plastered by blood she could feel soaking her tunic and dripping down her leg.
"No, no, no. Blast it, Keeper! When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"
"We could not afford to stop."
"So we can better afford to have you die from loss of blood?"
He let out a string of curses, the likes of which she'd never have imagined him knowing. When Daigo growled, Gavril spun on him with a snarl of his own.
"Do not blame me, cat. If this is what you were trying to tell me, then you need to have been clearer. If I'd had any idea her wound had reopened, I'd have stopped."
"We need to get inside," Moria said, and she meant to speak the words with full authority, but they came out a papery whisper. She blinked hard. "Help me up, and I can walk."
"You cannot. You should not." He turned his glower on her. "You are as bad as your wildcat, Keeper. You expect me to know something is wrong, and when I do not--"
"I expected nothing. Now, if we don't get inside, then all this has been for naught."
"All what?" he said as he scooped her up. "All your bravery? Is that to be your epitaph, Keeper? She perished because she was too blasted stubborn to . . ."
He continued, but her mind went fuzzy, less euphoria this time and simply a feeling of floating, barely tethered. She blacked out, coming to inside a dark, cool room, his fingers gripping her chin hard enough to make her wince.
"Good," he said when her eyelids fluttered. "Now keep your eyes open. I don't care how tired you are, I swear if you close your eyes and give me any cause for alarm . . ."
Again, he continued talking. Again, she seemed to float away from his words, thinking, He's frightened, and mumbling, "I'm sorry, Kitsune."
"I don't want apologies. I want you to stay alive. Tyrus entrusted me with your care, and I am not going back to tell him I failed. I will not. Do you understand that?"
"He would not blame you."
Gavril stopped, his mouth open as if to retort something, and he froze there, not moving, poised over her, his panic palpable.
"I have no intention of passing into the second world, Gavril," she said, her words oddly calm and measured. "But if I do, Tyrus will not blame you. You needn't worry."