Stephen watched Carlos' last conscious moments. His words came out in bunches, punctuated by deep, rattling breaths. Stephen considered that the injured man may have gotten some blood in his lungs. Considering for a moment to attempt to heal the man, he heard one of the Tasmanian Devils give a blood-curdling cry. He wouldn't be able to heal, not in the thick of this battle.
Stephen tore his eyes away from Carlos. They fell instead on the ice that was rapidly encasing Willow's head. Horrified, he watched two blades form on the girl's head, giving her a rather unorthodox look. He stared at her slightly, not quite sure what to say.
Then all of a sudden Willow's hand touched Stephen's, and their fingers interlocked. He felt himself blush slightly as she rested her head against his shoulder gently. It seemed a unconscious move, for she kept her eyes closed and said nothing. Not sure what else to do, he held her to his body, believing that perhaps it was the comfort she sought. Her question of what to do seemed to be more to herself than him, and he wasn't sure if he should answer. But as the moments dragged, it felt awkward not replying.
"I think we should get out of here. There's nothing to be gained from being involved in this fight which doesn't involve us."
He didn't want to move yet, in case she took it that he would leave without her. In truth, he was unwilling to leave her, even if she wanted to stay here and give her life up for fate, for the roll of dice. And as the sounds of helicopters could be heard all around them, it seemed more and more likely that staying in the area was a very bad idea.