[ Reynir is worried, by how long it takes Carlisle to uncover his eyes. But he waits, patient and anxious, until he looks out on the (hopefully) more welcoming landscape. Since Carlisle seems in no hurry to release Reynir's hand, he keeps hold of it. It's not the open space of that flat ocean, after all, but it is not as enclosed as those trees or that walled-in garden.

When he sees that Carlisle seems to be taking in the view without another breakdown that might make it necessary to try another area entirely (Reynir had already half-planned to try Onni's, next, if this was no better than the last), Reynir tugs gently, pulling Carlisle towards a little hollow between two steeper hills, where the ground is shadowed and there are almost walls of mossy earth enclosing a slightly cooler, darker place.

How many times had Reynir stretched out in little hollows like this, to nap for a few minutes while the sheep grazed, as he was growing up. As they move, the dog stays at their heels, seeming content to shadow them but not utter any more ominous pronouncements for the moment. ]

Carlisle...?

[ Reynir's voice is careful, concerned, tentative. He gestures to a soft place on the earth, where Carlisle can sit, if he wants to. He still hasn't released his hand. ]

Will this... be alright? If you want... we can stay here, until you wake up. I won't leave your side. I promise.