Reneira stood in the dim corridor of the elder's building, furiously scrubbing the blood from her hands in the water. Crimson swirled in the basin, vanishing with the water, but never from her memory. Her knuckles were raw, her skin turning pink beneath the relentless washing.
A shadow stretched beside her, and she didn't need to look to know who it was.
"I've been waiting for you, Uncle Agara," she murmured, voice brittle.
He caught her wrist gently. "Stop that. You're tearing your skin."
She froze, then slumped against the wall, shoulders heavy with grief. "So many died," she said, tears pricking her eyes, heat rising as guilt and sorrow threatened to spill over. "The human armies lost their supplies... if they don't starve on the road, the cold might take them."
"We don't know if any will make it home," she added softly.
Agara placed a steadying arm around her shoulders, anchoring her. "Come. We need to talk."
