Honeyed Pasture this pain is just too real

Eshe lay on the earth while her body revolted. She wasn't much use for anything, even self defense, but she was a woman possessed as the pretty pale creature--too pretty for a wolf, much too pretty!--came toward her abdomen. She used every ounce of strength to lift and snap at the whiskers of the other, spittle flying from the edges of her own lips. But the other was gentle, sweet. Descended from the stars. Charon would recognize her, she felt. The moons daughter, with the earth shining from her eyes. Angel. Cherub.

Was it her exhaustion that caused her to accept? It felt like she had very little fight left in her at all. In a moment of desperation, Eshe spoke to the being of the other world. Save them, she moaned, and a ripple of pain struck her, as violent as the sea during a storm, Save them... How could they survive? How could she? Scimitar had done well in keeping them fed as well as they could be in the famine. So had Neverwinter. But she was afraid it wasn't enough! She begged, now, in sobs, for the others divine intervention. What more could she do?