"Well, I guess we'd better get you out of it. Have you strength to walk?"
"Yes….. How do I know I can trust you?"
"You have no choice." He left the light as it was.
He led the way, and after hesitating she walked with him for several miles without speaking, climbing ever higher into the dark, bony hills. They rested then briefly, her breath coming hard from the steep grades they had already passed. But now, leaning dizzy and pallid against a stone, she felt a strange reluctance to speak of her condition. A harsh stubbornness had been growing inside her as they went, tightening ever harder as fatigue become unbearable. The feeling frightened her, but she kept it to herself. Instead she tried to satisfy another doubt.
"Who are you?"
"I am that which I am," he said. And he gave a short, bitter laugh.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Nothing to do with you," he said. "Just making a little joke to myself." She looked down at the ground beneath her feet. "But now you must be very tired. No need to push yourself all at once. Sit down on the ground and we'll rest."
She slid to the cold earth with her back against rough stone. It was quiet, too quiet, and through the darkness the memories….. She wept quietly.
"So softness wins out after all," he said flatly. She glared at him angrily, but he was not looking at her. "Don't worry about it. Sometimes it wins in me too." He must think he's some kind of stern father, she thought. A stern, unfeeling bastard of a father.