Wallaroo fell into the bed in the Templar’s Stormwind quarters, tired to a point she hadn’t been for…months. Healing wasn’t her forte, but she knew the basics, she knew how to keep people alive. She’d had to keep Kanta alive. And, she thought, she’d just managed to do that, thank the spirits.
The realization slowly rolled over her in the warmth and fog of burning muscles and drained energy. She hadn’t really thought about anything in those frantic moments when the battered and cut elf had landed on the floor of the entry room. She’d focused, and done her job, and now Kanta was resting, hopefully, with some further comfort upstairs. A faint blush. It was too selfish to feel proud of herself for that, she thought. She was happy…happier that Kanta was alive, and whatever was going on in this confusing situation, hopefully others wiser and more stable then she would be able to figure it all out.
The panda curled up further under the sheets. They were under siege again. But she would, she *could* focus. She wasn’t useless.
She’d check on Kanta in the morning, the others would have…stabilized him… maybe…make tea… and the thoughts tumbled off into a deep, steady sleep, only lightly troubled with the fear for the coming storm.
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