He was a trained guard, but Kirk knew when he was outmatched.  He’d tried to move away, shifting the girl on his shoulder so she was held more securely, but he was not quick enough.  Still, he had a duty.  “Lass, do ye know this man?” he asked softly.  It was a moment before Amuné could recover her voice enough to reply.  “Y-yes....Cain, what...don’t hurt him!”  Her voice wavered, and she reached for the former assassin’s free hand, but stopped short of actually touching him.  She didn’t want to risk it.

“Cain, is it?  I’m going to set the lass down as you ask.”  Careful not to move suddenly, the guardsman knelt and let Amuné off his shoulder.  “Now, you are a visitor here, but we don’t take kindly to folks who threaten others.  I think you might have misunderstood what was going on, so I won’t make a fuss about it, but try to take a bit more care in the future.”  The informal dialect had dropped from the man’s words, though his rough accent still remained.  When the knife was withdrawn, he stayed kneeling, and turned his focus to Amuné.

She’d taken a few steps back when her feet hit the ground, and then just stared at Cain with a horrified expression until Kirk drew her attention.  “Bit shaken, eh lass?  But no harm done.  Why don’t ye go ahead to change, and I’ll--”  A finger hooked in his shirt’s breast pocket made the man give her a rueful smile.  “I’m the one as supposed ta be protecting /you/, lass.  Fine, together then.”  Her negotiations with the guard complete, Amuné looked up at Cain, her face a complicated blend of emotions.  Even the girl would have had trouble distinguishing all of them, but there were bits of anger and hurt and sadness and fear.  “Why?” she demanded, hands gripping fistfuls of her skirt so tightly her knuckles were white.  “That...just, why?”

[@TheMinorFall]