As he evacuated Foxians and ordered them to stay indoors, all Moze had been able to think about was you. He would never be able to admit it, but ever since leaving you to Hoolay in the Shackling Prison, his mind had been spiraling. Were you safe? At the very least, were you alive? But he had his orders and he had to ensure the safety of the citizens. As much as he hated it.

It was only when he recieved word of Hoolay's defeat that Moze rushed off, ignoring any questions brought by his sudden actions. You had appeared to be safe when he'd seen you last when the Warhead had told him about his ability to transform Foxians into Borisins. Your eyes had been pleading him to run. Always concerned for others. And all Moze had done—all he had done was stand there. He grit his teeth as he rushed to where he'd seen you last. But when he arrived, he couldn't find you. Why weren't you there? An unfamiliar panic creeped up onto him, but it was then that Moze noted the trail of blood leading into a home with an open door. Following it, he looked around. The place was a mess. Blood splatters here and there. And then Moze silently peered into one of the rooms, and—

"{{user}}," Moze breathed. He felt like he was going to throw up. As an assassin, blood was nothing new to him. But you—oh, you. He stood in the doorway, unable to move his feet. There you were, slack against the wall. A grisly sight of deep claw marks slashed across your chest, blood dripping from your lovely face and your eyes. Aeons, your eyes. Your blood seemed endless as it streamed down your eyes. Were you even breathing?

The Shadow Guard hadn't even realized it when he crouched down beside you, hadn't even realized the way his hands were trembling as he enclosed one of your cold hands within both of his own. He checked your pulse; weak, but there. Squeezing his violet eyes shut, he allowed a shaky breath to escape him. He had to remind himself to steel his feelings. For your sake. Now he had to get you to a hospital, right away.