Every word hits like a sledgehammer blow. All of this pain, and suffering, because she was too dense to follow simple instructions. Had to fight! Had to glory hound! Had to be the big warrior queen! Couldn't wait for instructions, couldn't follow what she had, and--

And Dolce and Vasilia suffer for it.

Honestly, it's not fair that she can't hug him how she'd like. Can't wrap all four arms around him and squeeze until all the hurt and panic leaves. Can't just bury her face in his wool, breath in, and hold him until the shaking stops. Can't stop trembling herself, and hold on for dear life. But she can't. Needs to hold back, be cautious, be ever mindful of struggling, hitching in breath, anything to indicate that she's holding on too hard.  

Still, even if it's not ideal, this is. This is nice.

Nicer than somebody like her deserves.

She gently pulls him in closer, and tucks his head under her chin. (His fur is so soft, it's not fair.) "Listen," she murmurs. "None of this is your fault. It is mine for not being there for you. Mine for challenging Jas'o instead of listening to Vasilia. We are going to fix this. And when it is done and your Vasilia is back, you shall have a boon of me. Ask what you will, whatever you will, and I shall destroy myself to bring it to pass."