“What should we do now?” one of the clan warriors asked Tynan.
“Continue helping the injured. And send someone to collect more water from the temples.” Tynan was placed on top of the covers.
While Alina was taking his flying suit off, his head dropped onto the pillow. He passed out.
“Can I help?” I asked her.
Alina’s eyes landed on my face, and deep down, I saw her fear. She shook her head.
“I’m going to stay with him. How’s Victor?” Alina asked.
“He needs more water,” I responded.
“We’re out,” someone said behind me.
“There should be some left.” I turned to see who was talking.
“We used the last of it on several who were infected. Now we can only pray that someone will bring more.”
“But, it’s days of flight. To go there and back will take more than half the week,” I said.
“Frid, walk through the castle and ask in the village. Someone may still have some.” Alina touched my arm.
I squeezed her hand and a moment later, sprinted into the hall.
Everywhere I looked I saw signs of destruction, and as much as I disliked these walls, all my hatred evaporated long ago. I did not wish any harm on these people. They did not deserve this.
The floor was covered with dirt and splatters of thick blood. I saw corpses of the undead dragons and many broken and torn bodies.
“I need water, please!” I shouted running through the halls.
Everyone I met only shook their heads.
I rushed outside, sliding on the wet stone. I immediately transformed and lifted up, following the curvy road. I approached the remains of the houses, some were on fire, others were severely damaged. When I saw some people in the valley, I lowered myself to the ground.
It was an old woman mourning over the body of another woman.
“Do you have any temple water?” I shouted, trying to catch my breath.
The woman slowly turned her head toward me. Her heavily wrinkled face reminded me of a ceremonial mask. Messy coils of hair tumbled over her face.
“Mama!” the child cried.
My heart stopped when I saw the old woman caressing the dead mother and the child crying beside them.
“I poured the water on her wound, but she never got better,” the old woman said and her words sounded empty and devoid of any emotion.
“Mommy!” the child whined.
I saw the bottle with the remaining liquid in the old woman’s hand.
The woman turned to the dead body and poured more liquid on her head.
I crouched beside the body and pressed my fingers to her neck. Nothing. She was long gone.
“She’s dead,” I whispered.
“Grandma,” the child called.
