lot of time. Shifting around slightly, prepared to stay there all night if need be, she cursed inwardly as she accidentally nudged a bottle under the sink, which fell down, creating a hollow, echoing sound.

The woman was slightly over twenty, old enough that she could remember a few events of the war and what followed, but young enough that she didn't remember most of it. She did, however, remember the night her mother died, leaving her with only her father, who, although he did his best to raise her properly, couldn't be there for her all the time. She had elven features, raven-colored hair, and hazel eyes almost the color of amber. Though she could have been called pretty, she was even more so when she smiled. However,there was little chance of that happening now. On this particular day, she was wearing a black button-up shirt and pants of the same color, though the pants had a bleach stain on the hem of the legs.

Certain now that whoever it was had heard her, she decided that if she was to die that night she would rather do so on her own terms than on someone else's, she pushed open the cabinet door. Crawling out of the space, she stands up straight, looking at the man who stood before her, and the soldier who was at his feet.

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