Mara stumbled back into the main hall, arms laden with a mismatched collection of items. A water skin sloshed precariously. Rolls of clean-looking linen, probably ripped from bedsheets, were tucked under one arm. A small, chipped bowl completed the load.
The vast hall was darker now, the air frigid. The faint, intermingled glow from Meg, Scarlet, and Arachne's hands cast the only reliable light, painting their strained faces in hues of white, fiery gold, and deep shadow. Fin lay utterly still beneath their touch.
"I… I brought what I could find," Mara stammered, her voice echoing unnervingly in the oppressive gloom. She hurried towards them, nearly tripping over a loose flagstone.
Scarlet didn't look up. "Put it down. Anywhere." Her voice was a raw rasp, each word seemingly ground out through sheer effort. Sweat plastered her red hair to her temples, and her good hand, pressed against Fin's chest, trembled violently.
