The sensation he experienced when he glimpsed her white forehead was strange—more astonishing than sunlight breaking through gray clouds and more magical than peace amidst raging tempests. He paused for an instant to collect himself, savoring a brief respite from his assigned duties, prognostications, and the utilitarian issues of the moment.
Her gratitude was a soft touch, but it was compounded with the weight of having to balance sacrifices against needs. He did not think it was necessary for her to thank him in this instance. He had wanted to be there rather than standing back. But he did see the state of things as they stood—a quiet understanding of its nuances, an atmosphere of good-bye to its essence, despite her repeated demands for him to stay.
With sincere worry, his hands rested softly on her arms, providing reassurance then.
He then spoke her name, "Moiraine," softly now, but with an unexplainable roughness. He didn't dwell on whether she was scared on the inside or concerned in the moment. Her resilience and ongoing development, even in the midst of upheaval, had clearly erased such fears long ago.
Instead, he allowed the complete silence to drop, prepared to continue with his mind.
He replied, "If this is indeed our last battle as a group, then we must go into it with the knowledge that we have done all we can." They were greeted by silence. But if the Pattern does inform us that something lies much farther than this place, I will somehow manage to reach you, even if it is in another turn of the Wheel.
It had not been intended for eternity of conflict. The cost of one warrior was exorbitant. Nevertheless, the truth remained unshakeable, as evident as the blood coursing through his veins.
He stepped back slowly, wanting to absorb every detail of her face; he stared at her intently, seeking something in her face, perhaps immediate support, perhaps unshakeable strength, perhaps profound understanding between them. The wind changed direction, signaling opportunities for expansion had come and gone. Footsteps faded, receding into stillness.
Lan changed position, instinctively falling back to protect her from whatever came next. His hand instinctively closed around his sword, an automatic reflex requiring no thought.
"It appears that another individual has arrived," he said, his tone even but as cold as metal.
The fight was very far from over. There was a tense stillness, whoever arrived and whatever perils awaited.
