Rezo pulls her close, wrapping an arm around her back. He doesn’t immediately have an idea of the best way to carry her, although he’s well aware that she’s significantly shorter than him and thus, probably on the light side, even if she’s a fully grown woman.

If she held on, they could probably ascend like this, leaving him with a free hand, but he doesn’t want to risk her slipping and plummeting to the ground. So he leans over, catching her beneath the knees, and sweeps her up so that she’s held in his arms, pressed against his chest.

Only then, it occurs to him that he maybe should have asked if she minded before he swept her up like this. She is very close to him in this position, and he doesn’t have the excuse of being trapped by spider plant vines.

…This should not be awkward. He is an elderly blind man. An elderly, blind priest, trying to help someone climb a tree, where they will probably get attacked by monkeys and bird-bats. He doesn’t need to overthink this.

Rezo shakes his head. “Well,” he says. “I think we’re good to go.”