Torie was torn between looking at anything but Anthony and staring at him specifically to make sure he was alright. He looked worn, unlike what she was used to, and she feared he might be worse off than he was letting on. Everything settled uncomfortably in an awkward layer around them, as thick and as stifling as the dust on the furniture.

His questions surprised her and she looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked. Surely he had to mean in that very moment, her ankle, but for a brief moment she thought he might mean generally and she wouldn't have known how to answer. Life was a little miserable, even now, months later after their argument, the night that had effectively stripped her of all she had wanted in life. "I'm fine," she liked of both her ankle and her overall wellbeing. "It's not as bad as the broken leg at the Sanditon." That whole fiasco had been too much. She still walked with the slightest of limps and now it would no doubt be worse.

"Are you sure you are well enough to make the walk?" Having her wand would be essential to them getting home, but Torie was uncertain about his fortitude to get the horses and get back without complication.