Amelie walked inside, and the sight of a broken man met her eyes. He was lying on the sacks still, right where she'd left him. There was still dried blood beside the place where she'd haphazardly operated, congealed and dark brown. He seemed to be awake, ice-blue eyes staring right at her. What was the expression in his eyes? He wasn't aggressive, nor was he disappointed or scared. Perhaps it was true, what she'd heard about the Germans not feeling anything - not even pity...

"Hallo," she greeted him cautiously, coming to his side. It was difficult to gauge his reaction to her. But he couldn't do much in that state. In her hand, she held the saddlebag. The brunette knelt by his side, ready to jump away if need be. She withdrew the egg, apple and bread, along with another flask of water. Then she thought for a moment. How to say it in German?

"I am sorry, if it is not enough," she said haltingly, accent strongly French. "I cannot risk them knowing... How is your leg?"

((SORRY it's a little crap, but at least it's something ;_;))