"Neither should you," Yorda reassured. "Dreams are for when you sleep."

The smell of blood had been so overwhelming that she hadn't noticed his mangled hand, but the bleeding stumps were now in plain view. Wordlessly, she clasped her hands around the bloodied mess, and a faint, pale glow radiated from her palms. It wasn't much, but it was the one ability she had any semblance of control over - it would dull the pain at least, and Miles would probably find his wounds would heal much faster. The strange light also seemed to sap away fatigue.

"Can you walk?" She asked, not noticing that the illusion was already beginning to unravel.