Slipping Walls and Growing Guilt

After leaving the group, Kit removed her coat and used one of her daggers to carve a chunk of wood into a spade and latched it to a thick stick as a makeshift shovel so she could begin to dig a grave for Chet.
 
She hadn't shown it, but she had found herself wanting to connect with the horse despite her fear. And now, she felt a deep sense of regret knowing she could have saved the beast. She had seen the raptor approaching him, heard his terrified grunts, but the sight of Killian, unconscious once again, had sent her over the edge.
 
They had spent their entire lives walking away from gunfights, fistfights, any kind of fight, without ever collapsing. Not once had they ever dropped in a fight. Gotten pretty roughed up? Sure. There was the time Kit took a club to the face, leaving behind the scar that ran down her brow. She had barely managed to remain standing, but Killian had her back like always and brought a swift end to the barbarian's life.
 
And of course, Killian had indeed had his share of close calls. But never like this.
 
Then again, as she had told Devlin, they weren't exactly used to fighting with a group – in particular, not one they had no hand in selecting.
 
Kit continued to dig, slamming her spade down in frustration. She was angry at herself, too. She should have been there to protect Killian, to give another target so he didn't get swarmed. Instead in every fight she had been too far away to provide any assistance.
 
If Kit was being honest, she was frustrated about everything. Even though she knew Killian was protective because he loved her, she had found his threats to Devlin as they began their watch infuriating and unnecessary. Which was in part why she was so willing to talk with the half-elf. Surprisingly, she found herself enjoying the conversation with him, and enjoying it further as she had seen Killian's irritation about it grow. Devlin's quick-wit and the fact he was not even slightly intimidated by her brother had amused her. At least, at the beginning.
 
As their new group had taken to pointing at Killian's streak of bad luck, her own protective instincts had started to engage. She had torn apart taverns and incited brawls at people who had insulted her brother for less, and she found herself conflicted. Her threats wouldn't work on this group — so far they had all proved themselves to be just as intimidating and formidable as the twins — and she knew she had to keep things stable between them if they were going to get the job done. As Killian's own temper rose in response, Kit had to use every bit of mental strength she had to remind herself they were here for a singular reason, to earn their pardons and get their parents back.
 
As she finished digging what she hoped was a deep enough grave for the horse, she climbed out, covered in dirt and sweat, and paused. Her anger towards the group had mostly faded now into anger towards herself, for irritating Killian mostly, but also for finding herself starting to like the people they were travelling with, despite their mockery of her brother. This wasn't supposed to be about bonding. No connections, that was always her rule. Killian and Oak were the only two exceptions. She couldn't help but think Killian's stumbles and her slipping walls were an ominous sign of troubled waters ahead.
 
She sighed and walked over to Chet, realizing she could not move the beast on her own.
 
"Killian, a hand?"