Another Creative Frustration Outlet

The humidity was thick that day. Not even the gentle rain that clung to his hair eased that feeling of swimming through the air. Yet, she couldn't help but think the gray skies and grim surroundings of recent ruins made his eyes even bluer. Mara lowered her gaze to the burnt ground. He was her kidnapper, the one holding her hostage, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for him.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem she could say the same for him. She sat huddled against a pile of rubble, the ground slowly but surely becoming mud around her, a coarse rope pinning her arms to her sides and her wrists behind her back. The kerchief around her mouth smelled nice, though. Smelled like him, she suspected. What strange thoughts she kept having.
Her heart fluttered as his eyes turned back to her again. Perhaps he was concerned afterall. After a few too-short minutes, the young man gave a sigh and got to his feet. He made his way over to her and bent down over that pile of rubble. Rummaging through it, he pulled out a long sheet of wood that had survived the explosion, and after setting up a few pieces of stone, he laid the wood over it, creating a small tent.
"The ground's already wet..but you won't catch cold."
His voice was hard, and he didn't look directly at her face. But she could have sworn she heard a bit of sympathy in his voice. Maybe his cold heart really did have some warmth. Mara scooted under the plank of wood, relieved to be out of the cold rain. After she settled down, the young man pulled the cloak off his shoulders and laid it over the opening, cutting off the wind.
"It seems your father values his money more than his daughter.."
Her brow furrowed to hear him say that. Not the words themselves, troubling as they were, but how he said it. As if he, too, had had a father that way. He was rather young to be doing this sort of thing, she thought. While she was only fourteen, she was sure he wasn't much older. Sixteen, maybe. But as for what he'd said, she prayed it was not true. What would this boy do with her if she didn't prove helpful for him? And how could her father really value her less than his money?
But, as the hours dragged on, and the specified meeting time became long-gone, the boy's words seemed all too true. By the next morning, the rain had stopped, and still her father's men didn't come for her. It wasn't much longer before the boy pulled back the cloak and crouched down in front of her. Hands that would probably have been rough and mean on any other man were gentle, careful not to hurt her as he untied the kercheif from around her head.
"Well. I can't very well send you back to him without payment. But I can't stay here forever, either. If I let you go, you'd go back to him, wouldn't you?"
Mara's eyes widened and she quickly leaned towards him. "I wouldn't go back to him even if he did come for me now! Please, take me with you!"
The boy seemed rather taken aback by this, but his fair mouth curled into a faint smile. "So be it. You wouldn't last long on your own, anyway." He reached around to the back of his belt and pulled out a knife, promptly cutting the ropes away from her arms and wrists. Rocking back onto his heels, he offered his hand to her. Upon her taking it, he stood, and helped her up as well.
Mara brushed herself off, blush lifting to her cheeks as the boy laid his cloak over her shoulders. She swallowed uneasily, then spoke up, "If we are to be travelling together..might I know your name?"
(Kudos to you if you know who the young man is. Though, anyone who knows me and my characters well enough should figure it out pretty easily.)