You help me, I help you. An apple for a tomato. Katurian turned some of his cloak into a bag as well, although he's currently lying on top of it. He gets on his hands and knees, slips it out from underneath him, and takes the offering with ginger fingers. He moves the apples there as well. He was too tired to bother earlier. (Or maybe it just feels better when the food is pressed up against his chest, his beating heart.)

"You could've left me or you could've killed me," he says. "But you didn't." And then he hesitated a fraction of a second. "Not yet."

He tries to laugh like it's a joke, but he cringes instead. He gets to his feet, little by little. Muscle by muscle. Joint by joint.

"His name was Hyperion. He wore white, and I'd never seen him before now."