She wants to grab him and shake him until whatever is wrong with him rattles loose, she wants to scream at him, she wants to make him understand. This isn't the clan, Merrick. These people owe you nothing! And she wants to just break down in a fit of stress because one of these days, that won't be another elf behind her with a dagger, it'll be a human, and they will kill Merrick. One of these days she's going to show up and see Merrick dead in the mud, and no justice for his murder, because who would blame a human for fighting against some crazed Dalish?

She doesn't do any of that, because none of that will help out right now. Instead, she embraces Merrick, fingers working through the mud in his hair. "It'll be okay," She tells him, with the low voice she used on panicky halla. "Everything's going to be okay. We just...need to clean you up." She pulls away a bit, to restart the task of using her scarf to wipe at his face.

"You're going to give me gray hairs, Merrick. Then I'll match Pel and Cyril. Is that what you want?"