{Ryanna’s POV}

White linen blanketed the field like a second snowfall.

Some bodies were whole. Others had been gathered together with whatever dignity trembling hands could manage. All of them were still. Quiet. Blood soaked through the cloth in too many places to count.

At some point, the white cloth was an equal part red as it was white.

I didn’t cry.

There were no tears left in me.

Not after the number of cubs I counted amongst the dead. Especially one whose linen the wind blew ...