He is barely conscious by the time the horse pulls to a halt at the caves. Pain and blood loss and exhaustion have tipped Oliver towards unconsciousness even as familiar hands tug at the knots on the rope to free him. The world shifts and bobbles as warm and achingly familiar hands pull him down from the mount.

Sara.
His light.
His beloved.

Oliver groans as she helps him down and keeps him from crashing headfirst to the hard ground. Safe. He's safe with her. His Saraa.

"S'ra," a barely there mutter as he staggers hard.