Dead. They told her.
She tried to spell widow in her head. Two small sons. One woman old at thirty seven.
"Please." She tried to scream. "Not him too."
I will see him again. I will. I will. I will. This is the only way she can keep moving. And she doesn't want to go home.
She doesn't want to see her children.
"Please get someone." A distressed Healer is saying.
"Please." She tried to fight but is sat on a bed in the corner. The wall is spotted when she presses her face close to it.
She doesn't want to scream.
There's a man walking through the door. He's thirty eight. He's still not done with her.
He's still there.