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It started small. Odile would break pieces off her food and offer them to Xullara to try. She knew, they all knew, that Xullara didn’t eat enough, but she didn’t say anything, just offered them food. It was such a relief every time they accepted.
It wasn’t enough, though, and Odile tried to do more. She couldn’t help worrying every time she saw fresh bruising on Xullara’s skin. Feeding them wouldn’t fix that, but it might at least help make them a little less desperate. It was something she could do, when there was very little she could do about Xullara’s recklessness. She knew they were lost and desperate, and all she could do was to keep at it, to keep offering small things so that they’d keep coming to her. It was a relief every time they came to her doorstep. More of one when they agreed to stay the night. Sometimes they’d fall asleep curled up against her, and she’d relax, knowing for certain they were safe.
She had to drag them to a healer more than once. On one of those occasions, in an event that will haunt her for the rest of her life, they knocked on her door, and when she came to open it, they were collapsed on the ground. Blood pooled out around them, seeping into the stones. Odile hauled them bodily off the ground and carried them to the nearest temple at the fastest pace she could, not caring what god it was to, only if they could help. They could, luckily, and Xullara recovered, but she will never forget that fear.