Coughing and sputtering still, Arria wasn’t exactly in a position to sing a song, as Havarr had suggested when he scooped her up into his arms, but she did shut her eyes, at least until they were free of the temple. There was no escaping the images of death, not unless she struck out her own eyes, so she was resolved to look, to harden herself against it. This was what she needed to fight, in her own way. Not with swords and arrows, but in a more meaningful way. She would have to find a way to cure the disease, not merely treat its symptoms.

When she heard the voices of others, speaking to Havarr, she turned her head to see them, settling her blue eyes on the captain of the guard, a man she’d had scant interaction with since arriving in the town, as well as a smaller man with a small blade that she did not recognize. And there, bounding away towards the buildings, was a large creature of some kind, one that the others did not pay much heed to, so she assumed it was perhaps more intelligent than the average animal. Her mind was too clouded by everything else to really think on it.

“I’m fine now, Havarr,” she said quietly. “You can put me down. Thank you.” None of the living here looked to be infected, and Arria was glad to have found at least some other survivors. If they had been infected, they would probably be dead by now, and Arria didn’t know if she would be able to cure them, even just one of them. When she was on her feet again, Arria fretted with her robe a bit, smoothing out some folds and adjusting the hood. More out of habit than anything. There was little point in looking presentable here.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” she gently suggested, glancing around. “There’s nothing left but death.”