She is so close that he can feel her breath on his face. His eyes lock on hers, and see that she is sorrowful and frightened, but determined, and his brow furrows in desperation.

From somewhere far away, he hears his name being called, but it's of no importance--nothing is, save Marian and the way she is looking at him now in the purple light of evening: pale and strong and beautiful. it calms his voice when nothing else would, and now he speaks low and intent; words for Marian alone.

"Look at me."

Her eyes flicker, but his voice is gentle and firm. "Look at me!"

She looks, and for a moment he is caught by her. The gray-blue of her eyes quells his own fierceness, and when he speaks again, it is a renewed promise. "I will deal with this."