Alle Kunst ist der Freude gewidmet

He warmed up quite quickly and the ache died away steadily. He grudgingly admitted that he was thankful that Tana had come. Over the time the night grew colder and his breath started to morph into white fog around midnight. Maybe another hour after that a solemn knight came to relieve him. Innes refused to show how stiff his bones had grown and how his teeth chattered so he only nodded to the knight and returned to his own tent almost directly.
He took a little detour to Tana´s tent; he didn't intend to keep her blanket the whole night and to be deeper in her debt.

Soundlessly, he slipped into her tent and tiptoed over to where he thought her bunk was, outstretching his hand to feel for the edge of her bed (and to avoid hitting his knee on it again). He was shocked when his searching fingers found cold skin. Tana backed away a bit at his warm touch and sigh-groaned in her sleep. Innes waited for a few seconds so that his eyes could grew accustomed to the light.

He still couldn't discern much, but he did see that Tana´s so-called riding cloak barely covered her legs. She had curled up, clutching her knees to her chest, to keep her little warmth close to her. Her arms were bare and (to Innes at least) felt colder than the night air. He tsked annoyed (and worried) and immediately threw her blanket over her, tucking it close around her.

"Stupid girl," he mumbled to himself while pulling the blanket up to her chin. "I told you father would have my hide if I let you get sick." She shifted, clutching for the blanket, and sighed.

He pushed her ponytail back over her shoulder; then his hand hovered over her head for a moment, hesitating, until he finally stroked her once. He quickly stood up afterwards and strode towards the tent exit. Just when he threw back the cloth, he heard a low "Thank you, brother". He turned his head back, an answer lying on the tip of his tongue, but it didn't want to leave his mouth.

"Good night." Then he left the tent.