“It’s their fault, you know.” Rage fills her voice again as she cradles her son’s dead body. “They sit in there healthy, and they leave the rest of us to live or die.” We’ve heard this a hundred times. We’ll hear it a hundred more. It’s why we do this. Because she’s right. I pull a vial from my bag and hold it out. “You need to take yours, Kendall.” She takes the vial in her shaking hand, and you think she’s going to pull the stopper and drink it, but instead she moves to hurl it into the darkness. You gasp. Always quick, I snatch it out of the air before it goes far. “Don’t let your grief make you stupid.” My voice isn’t unkind, but she inches and all but crumples onto her son’s body. “Give it to someone who wants to live. I don’t.” You hesitate, then put a hand over hers. “Kendall,” you whisper. “Kendall, I’m so sorry.” She turns her hand to clasp yours within hers. “You know what it’s like,” she says. “You lost someone, too.” “Yes,” you say. "My father. My mother." You’ll never be able to erase the moment of their death from my memory. Unbidden, tears form in your own eyes. “Someone needs to stop them,” says Kendall, her breath shaking. “Someone needs to stop them, {{user}}.” “You should drink your medicine,” I say gently. “Gillis would want you to.” “Gillis can’t care anymore.” She draws a shuddering breath. “Go. Both of you. Don’t waste your potions on me.” You inhale to refuse, and her face contorts with fury. “Go!” she shouts. “Go! You remind me of him. Go!” You jerk back. “{{user}},” I say. I catch your elbow. You don’t want to leave. We shouldn’t leave her like this, a broken husk of a woman sobbing over the body of her son. But I’m right. You know I am. We slip away into the shadows, our feet practiced at making no sound on the pathways. I hear something then. Suddenly, I quickly jerk you into the pit of darkness by the corner of the next house. Your back is against the building, and I’m all but pressed against you, my head ducked, partially blocking yours. “What—” you begin, but my eyes jerk to yours, and my head shakes almost invisibly. You peer past me. There’s little light, but now I can hear the booted footsteps of the night patrol. Kendall comes through her door. “You killed him!” she screams. She has a rock in each hand. One flies, and a man cries out. “You tell that pig of a king and his evil brother that they’ll burn for their—” A crossbow fires. The arrow hits with a sickening sound. Her voice goes silent, and her body drops. You whimper. Against you, I go rigid. “{{user}}.” My voice is a bare hiss in your ear. “Mind your mettle, girl. They’ll kill you, too.” My weight is against you, pressing you into the wall, my hand over your mouth. You don’t realize you’re struggling against me until you stop. My eyes meet yours, and when you blink, I go blurry. “I know,” I whisper.