In between hazy intervals of anxious slumber Alistair heard her softly whimpering, her shoulders quaking minutely underneath his arms. He felt her fingers clutching into the fabric of his shirt, now made cold and wet from tears wept where she had buried her face in his chest. His muscles moved reflexively, arms tightening and pulling her closer, lips pressing a long but hardly there kiss atop her head. Her breathing hitched, and he returned with a whispered, "Don't be afraid" before drifting back to sleep.
Come morning and their march, he had no memory of his fearless rogue's crying against him.