In a few quick strides, he was at Henry’s side. He sat unmoving in the saddle, hands still on the reins. Hans reached up, steady and sure, and slipped an arm around his waist. Henry slid down slowly — leaned into him, heavily, without hesitation. As if he’d long since stopped pretending he had strength to spare. Is it worse to be weak, or to be someone’s weakness? Hearth and Kin – Part III. Soon.


















