The Sentinels shatter me

Grief settled over her slim shoulders, grief for her father's death and the chasm that had seemingly enveloped the entire pack he had left behind. There was the camp of peace, where no skills of war were welcome, and the camp of common sense, that said we need to be prepared for anything that might come. Eilidh's heart was torn between the two, but she also knew that her father had encouraged her and her siblings to learn to fight, to learn the skills of sparring, in case they were ever needed. In that way she agreed with @Constantine. 

That morning dawned foggy and cooler than it had been in days, and the wraith moved through the sentinels, winding through the mist that clung to every tendril of fur, clogging her lashes with dew. The weather matched her mood, and Eilidh didn't mind it. Her bones were visible beneath her fur, jutting out at unnatural angles. The famine had gone, but she was experiencing her own type of famine in the grief that gripped her. Instead of sobbing all the time, Eilidh was simply deadened. The light that once shone in her eyes, in her heart, had nearly been extinguished. She wasn't sure if it would ever return, but for now she jealously guarded the ember buried in the ashes of her soul.