"What is it, little one?"
Bupu rolled over to face him. Her eyes were red, her nose swollen. Tears streaked down her dirty face. She snuffled and wiped her hand across her nose. "I don't want to leave you. I want to go with you," she said brokenly, "but–oh–I will miss my people!" Sobbing, she buried her face in her hands.
A look of infinite tenderness touched Raistlin's face, a look no one in his world would ever see. He reached out and stroked Bupu's coarse hair, knowing what it felt like to be weak and miserable, an object of ridicule and pity.
"Bupu," he said, "you have been a good and true friend to me. You saved my life and the lives of those I care about. Now you will do one last thing for me, little one. Go back. I must travel roads that will be dark and dangerous before the end of my long journey. I cannot ask you to go with me."
Bupu lifted her head, her eyes brightening. Then a shadow fell across her face. "But you will be unhappy without me."
"No," Raistlin said, smiling, "my happiness will lie in knowing you are safely back with your people."
"You sure?" Bupu asked anxiously.
"I am sure," Raistlin answered.
Dragons of Autumn Twilight, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman