He isn't sure how to take her brief response -- annoyance with their circumstances? With him? With his foolishness for having ever set foot outside his house when there might be monsters around? The answer, combined with the quiet ire that crosses her and his own proclivity for guilt, leads him to believe it's the last one. He is a burden yet again -- to her, to Ravine, to Glacius. Look at what he's done by simply existing.

Carlisle exhales softly, himself burdened by his own ineptitude. "I didn't ask to be attacked. Nor to fall from the cliffs. Nor to struggle to command my own energies when the wounds are mine."