His breath shudders a little when they reach out. He's not sure he can call it relief, with how hollowing and horrible all of this is, but it's surely something close.
He looks down at those eyes without fear. At least, not fear of the eyes. There is a fear for them, that not-quite-relief, every bit of sorriness he can hold, a care that goes too deep.
His gaze is ripped away by their muttering, then falling. He yelps. He worries, and hesitates, but, ultimately, it's a good thing. If they're passed out, he can move them without causing a panic.
Carefully, he takes them up in his arms. He'll bring them inside, lay them with their nest. It'll make a mess of things, but it's a mess that can be cleaned and less important than seeing them well. He picks them and starts to carry them in, out of the chill fall air, holding them for what he hopes won't be the last time.
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He looks down at those eyes without fear. At least, not fear of the eyes. There is a fear for them, that not-quite-relief, every bit of sorriness he can hold, a care that goes too deep.
His gaze is ripped away by their muttering, then falling. He yelps. He worries, and hesitates, but, ultimately, it's a good thing. If they're passed out, he can move them without causing a panic.
Carefully, he takes them up in his arms. He'll bring them inside, lay them with their nest. It'll make a mess of things, but it's a mess that can be cleaned and less important than seeing them well. He picks them and starts to carry them in, out of the chill fall air, holding them for what he hopes won't be the last time.