As Amalthea talked and the assassin clutched his robe, Solomon could only think. The complete mess that was his life the past few hours were slowly being organized in his head into a discernable thought. His first step was, as Amalthea put it, get moving, probably set up camp a ways from here in the forest neighboring the burning town. He was not, however, going to leave his killer behind to die. He picked her up again and hoisted her over his shoulder. 

"She has some debris in her leg. Wouldn't last a day on her own." Solomon told the princess as he gathered his composure, clutched his staff, and started to walk towards the woods. "Let's find a place to make camp, treat wounds, and ask questions to our new friend here. She has quite a bit to answer for." He still wasn't thinking as clear as he could be, with one of the few places he could feel comfortable in burning down behind him. Once he was calmed down and the wave of emotions passed over, then he would talk, and maybe pass out on the most comfortable patch of grass he could find...