#189468 - Two sentries, a teenage boy and girl, were struggling to string bows in the watchtower in the center of the beach. The girl—even younger than the one Torstein had killed—was dragging herself slowly along the ground, three arrows in her back. She flipped over and holding herself up with her elbows, stared at Alena, her eyes silently questioning, “Why?” Alena could see the deep gash in her friend’s belly, the blood running into the dirt.
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