Despite feeling prepared to catch him, the suddenness of his hands on her arms had her stumbling slightly. "It's alright, you're okay." Rosalie promised as she righted herself and looked toward him. If she hadn't already suspected him to be lying, the way he clung to her as though she was the only life raft on a violent sea would have spoken volumes. However, all his touch served to do was heighten her already panicked nerves and senses of something being well and truly wrong.

The issue was now that Rosalie still had no idea how to guide them out of the maze. And, with him clinging so tightly, she didn't think leaving him safely on the bench in order to find help was an option. (Never mind that she'd then need to find the bench again.) She could send up an emergency flare, but then everyone would see that they were alone together and with their history that certainly couldn't happen. Which left one option - apparating them out.

Except, Ezra was so out of sorts that Rosie was terrified she'd splinch him somehow with the attempt.

She'd never felt so useless.

"You need help." Rosalie insisted, looking over at him briefly before looking back at the fork in the path. The two paths, however, differed only minimally to the increasingly panicked healer. Ezra was ill - something was horribly, terribly wrong and she didn't know where to go. "Right or left?" She then murmured, more to herself than him.

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