Bearclaw Valley violent disposition

the pain was unbearable. it was hot and seething, coursing through her in waves. she wanted it to be over; she isn't strong enough to bare it. any of it. she felt like a child who'd scraped it's knee, being coddled and soothed by their mother. her whimpers and cries drift through the air, and she has to force herself to focus on cole as he cradles her.

"g—gulls. they're called gulls," she hiccuped. birds that she used to envy, for they were free and untethered. she could almost hear their nostalgic calls, and it's enough to tear her mind away from the pain for a moment.

rala joins them, urging cole aside, and his loss stings more than any wound. she didn't wish him to leave. at least rala was a comforting presence; a soft and kind woman who'd made an effort to become winslet's friend. her only friend. her voice was calm and reassuring. she shouldn't have to witness her like this.

the snow burns as it's packed into her limbs, and she tries to weakly pull away, her eyes screwed shut.