Devastation
"It's a mess," Mustang said in his most colorless, professional voice. "I'll be sending a few alchemists to help you with the business of rescue and damage assessment."
"Thanks." He regarded the dark-haired man. "How's Briar doing?"
"She's still scared. It's hard for children, when they're that age."
He nodded. "I know, Mustang. Believe me, I know."
"And..." There was a curious little hitch in the man's voice. "Medics are saying that's she really sick. Tuberculosis, pneumonia, influenza. Unless something's done soon, I don't think she'll be able to survive."
Havoc sighed, horribly depressed, yet only feeling it distantly. "It's a pity when they're that young."
"I know..."
The two men spent a long while silently and sadly looking out at the wreck that had been Briar's village. That's how Havoc still thought of it, even though the name was technically Liengenstadt.
"Why?" Havoc asked suddenly. "Why were so many people hurt?"
Mustang jumped at the slightly harsh question. "Are you blaming me?"
"No. I'm... I don't know who I'm blaming. There just has to be a reason for all of this."