there she laid, clinging to the lifeless body of Jinx, a small, sobbing mess. Her body wracked with each inhale, exhaling with a stutter of a broken mirror. Her little, small hands clasping tightly at the clothes of her caregiver.

the blood was long dry, spilt and not cemented to the floor. The smell of iron faded, and the clouds of gunpowder settled. The enforcers had long gone, but their actions would taint history for years.