A Shorter Trail (for apassingafternoon)

Bert walked fast, keeping pace with the dull throbbing of his head. Anger lengthened his stride - anger at Alain for running away, at Roland for not being there, at Kaine for being stupid enough to get them all in this mess, even at Jamie for dying. Because that was the core of it, really. Anger was easy to feel, a great deal easier than grief or fear or worry, and anger would keep him going where the others were likely to make him stop and collapse.

Everything was gone. Even his world was gone. And Alain hadn't let him go with it. That hurt, a deep, gnawing loss that had nothing to do with Alain at all, really. He'd set himself up as a dinh in Roland's absence, and even though he'd known that they would lose the battle, he still felt the dull blade of failure, that hideous knowledge that he could have done more or acted differently. If Roland felt this way all the time, he thought blackly, it was a wonder he hadn't gone completely mad.

He was so lost in those thoughts, and the black void of anger they pulled him into, that he almost didn't see Kaine. He'd been expecting her to be a half-hour or more outside the town by now, not huddled so close to its gates. A few feet more, and he would have fallen over her.

Taking a deep breath, he did his best to push down his feelings, hunkering next to her and reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Kaine?" Then, as if only now registering her nakedness: "Hold steady, I'll lend you my shirt. Hardly a Fair-Day gown, but it'll cover you."