She hated to cry, but what else was one to do when faced with their death? Her lustrous gold hair was damp with tears and clung to her cheeks, and the moss-green brilliance of her eyes was only enhanced by the circles of red. I am a grown woman yet here I lie, waiting for death like a little chicken with his head on the block. Soon I am for the Wolf Gods. How disgusting that they will see me weeping like a child. Her father, who might have normally demanded she do her chores, let her lie there naked and alone in her small room. Through the wall sometimes she heard him weeping, though he tried to be quiet about it. She was the last of his family. Soon he would be alone. Not for the first time she thought about escape. It would not be hard- she was quick and clever, and she knew the ways of these woods. Even if they took the dogs after her she could climb a tree like she had as a child, and wait for them to pass. But no, that was the selfish path. It was not the fault of the village that she had been born beautiful, nor that they must sacrifice her to live.
