It was night. We had walked for over five hours straight, never taking a break. Ward kept up a fast continuous pace, where I was dragging myself along. I was about ten feet behind him, trying and failing to keep up for the last hour. We had started out slow, but Ward grew determined and picked up his speed.
"Ward," I cried out weakly. He looked back, amazed by how far he was in front if me. The almost full moon was behind a lone unmoving cloud, making it hard to see. He walked back towards me, where I was still dragging myself on. He stopped next to me, holding out his arm. I hastily took it, wanting some support for my aching feet. Little did I know, he was actually going to carry me. He picked me up, hooking his arms under my knees and neck. I was so tired, I couldn't even show surprise.
"It's ok, Skye," he whispered softly, as he continued walking. I couldn't think to do anything. I naturally curled my head up against his warm chest, which accepted me. I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open. I took in his now very faint Irish Spring body soap, and the soft fabric of his shirt. I felt almost happy there, and I'm sure I feel asleep with a smile on my face.