Laura considers her unadorned hands. She thinks of the power that used to be in them, through them.

"He's not dead, he's only sleeping." Her throat bobs up and down, the action of swallowing awkward from her bone-dry mouth. "We don't know yet. We were just setting out after him when I got here."

While she'd like to hold out hope, a part of her know. There's always a part of her that knows. She thinks about Cameron, always following after Marian. Cameron, who'd reached out to her so many times when no one could see she needed it. Cameron, who'd kept her alive when she was too consumed with grief to even breathe. Cameron, who she'd screwed over and gotten hurt and maybe killed just so she could enjoy a few moments' warmth.

"He might not-" Her mouth clicks shut as a few tears leak out of her eyes. They are scrubbed off immediately. "Shit. Shit! God damn it."