Wiley's voice was gentle. "You must be so tired."
The words almost brought Geelie to her knees because, holy Goddess, she was so very tired. She hadn't stopped moving, hadn't stopped killing, for as long as she could remember.
How could she? She had nowhere to go, no one to go to.
Her mother. Her sister. Gone.
She became aware of the harsh breathing of the man on the ground, the smell of the blood leaking through his bandages.
This man, or humans like him, were the reason she was alone.
She turned her head, looking at the injured man.