Sorry. An overdeveloped nurturing instinct comes with being a healer.

“Run,” he whispered. “Run.” “No, Rand,” I said, brushing the dirt from his face. “I’m tired of running.” “Forgive me, please.” He clutched my hand as his eyes beseeched me through tears of pain. “You’re forgiven.” He sighed once, then stopped breathing. The shine in his brown eyes dulled. I pulled his hood over his head.

I took three steps and was wrapped in his arms, where I belonged. No confusion here. No worries here. No troubles here.

Trella! You’re here,” he said with glee. “Even though I’m not as smart as you, I do know where I am.

You can't let the past ruin your future.

Nothing says you care for me better than offering to torture my enemies.

Nice Kerrick was scarier than Mean Kerrick.