( He does not remember their destination, either. But it will reveal itself, with each tranquil, trickled step. They must trust in the animal capacity to hunt down lairs, to cease their hurt. )

I know my heart would not ache for strangers.

( A simple answer, lacking. In all ways but one, he has failed the task set before him, but this will do. He twists, turning to capture Wanda's arm, first, then to raise her enough that, bending the knee, he might seat an arm beneath her thighs, another against the lower breadth of her back.

And he lifts, slowly, to allow the natural inquietude that assails most who find themselves even knowingly carried. )

Do not kick.

( ...another natural impulse for those carried. )