Amidst the madness of their war, the constant disarray of camp, training and providing for so many people, they all have to find brief moments for themselves. Dear Rowena often took a good deal of the work within camp (alongside Clara; neither fought, so they busied themselves instead with helping the cause in other ways), but it also meant she seemed to have less time to spare than others.
“Please, allow me, Lady Rowena.” He cups his hands over hers, gently, in an attempt to take the firewood she’s carrying. “You’ve been working so hard; you deserve a bit of a break... Although I can’t promise I’ll be of much use making breakfast, so you may still need to help.”