“Not to return without him?” Kyah’s tone thick with rage and melancholy. “I’m the one doing all his work! I’m the one getting him all the things he needs! ‘The Shadow of The Wall’ my ass!” Kyah slams down the bag she withdraws from the small chest at the foot of her bed. Cloths and tools alike and thrown with haste into the waiting mouth of the traveling bag, Kyah’s attention on gathering things not organizing.

Grabbing the last of her things, Kyah stands before the bed with her life sprawled out before her. A few shirts, a few pants, a dress or two, and a variety of tools. All that she had been at the wall since her mothers passing would soon be stuffed into a small night sack for her to sleep in. Grimmock had adopted her when her mother passed, and given her a chance to earn a wage as a child. And now he throws her to the wolves. Rage again wells inside her, the flush of her skin appearing purple and red like a bruise left by the all in the face as he departed.

Kyah’s screens billow out of her room and down the outside hallways. She wants him to hear the rage boiling within her. He deserve to know.