"Put me down! I said put me... down! I can, I can, I can walk! I can WALK you... egomaniac! I want to... nnnngh! Listen to me, you, you, gackphbbttt!"

Madeleine spits tail hairs out of her mouth and then all at once the fight seems to drain out of her. She hangs as limp as a dead body over Machia's shoulder, left with nothing to do with herself but feel the rhythm of the walk and watch the sidewalk pass by. 

She could fall asleep like this, if only she dared. The sweat covering her body has started to dry off, pushing her from burning hot to clammy cold, but the back she's pressed into is strong and warm. She squishes her cheek against it and moans as she bounces down the street. Her breathing is slowly settling, though it still sounds like it belongs to a dying woman. When she presses her ear flat she can hear stronger, healthier lungs and a steady heart. 

All she has to do is match this pace, and she'll be ok. She'll be ok. She's stronger than this, she'll show you.

People are watching her. She can't see them, but she knows it. What are they going to say this time? What are they going to write about in the morning? For once she doesn't know. Her mind refuses to picture it. Her heart refuses to care. There's no room in her heart for anything but the war raging for control of her emotions. The shame of having failed, of having failed in this specific way and the terror of knowing it had never come for her in Aristeia! training before, against an inexplicable sense of comfort emanating from this... this warmth, this softness, this irritatingly steady gait, these muscles that she must be close to earning a doctorate in studying. 

"If you... hated me carrying you so much, I... I wish you had. Said something. I had... an entire plan for today. I wanted - you are so annoying - I wanted to show you my apartment. I have nothing to wear now. I was... going to teach you about... it's all ruined now. It's all ruined. Everything is ruined. I can't stand this."

But if that was true, then why had she started to smile? Was she so tired it was making her delirious? Those weren't even the words she'd meant to use. Oh, terrible. Absolutely terrible. How was she ever going to get stronger if she loved being weak this much? That can't be true. But it has to be. There's no other explanation for the fluttering inside of her.