"The leader? Well, that's me," said the woman with calloused hands in a calm, almost detached voice, as if she were stating a simple fact without any emotion. With a sharp motion, she withdrew the blade, and the caravan leader felt her strength completely drain away. The world around her became a whirlwind of blurred colors as her legs gave way beneath her. She collapsed heavily to the ground, the cold seeping into her limbs. The sky, seen through the canopy, suddenly seemed so far away, the rays of the sun so distant.
As her vision darkened, her thoughts turned to the travelers she had wanted to protect. In her final moments, she hoped that her death would not be in vain, that the children, the innocent, would find a way to escape this grim fate. But soon, all thought left her, and the leader breathed her last, her eyes fixed on the treetops, her gaze void of life.