Maeve is aware that running is not very brave of her, but she’s so sure that she can’t be here and if that is cowardice, she’ll live with it.

The hand grabbing hers breaks her out of a panic and she stares for a moment, the realization of it all setting in. “Oh.” Eloquent as ever. “Darling.” Her expression is softer here. “I…” Having killed and been killed more times than she feels like counting, she sympathizes. “It’s…” She lets out a small breath. “I’m not upset with you. I wish…I wish it hadn’t been necessary, but it was.” She squeezes her hand. “I’m sorry.”