Katelina woke from darkness. She found herself in a cheap motel room, a light shining in her eyes. She raised her hands and saw gore caked in the lines of her palms and the subtle patterns of her fingerprints. She looked down the length of herself to see that was still dressed in the tattered white dress. It was flecked and smeared with blood, and in the center of her skirt was one small, perfect handprint: the reminder of a bloody child.
Screams echoed through her mind and the smell of burning flesh lingered in her nose. She shuddered.
"It's all right," a soothing voice whispered. She looked up quickly to see Jorick. He stood next to the bed shirtless, his longhair wet and a towel thrown over his naked shoulder. He gave her an encouraging nod and brushed loose strands of hair back from her face. "It's all right."
"No," she murmured. "No, it's not all right."
"Your bath is ready." He gently tugged her to her feet. Her legs shook beneath her and she swayed and fell against him.