She sighed at the memory of his touch, and one hand groped at her breast. She stopped and snarled, hating the thick dress, hating her sagging, useless udders even more, incapable of even the most rudimentary pleasure. She bit her lip, forcing back her fury.
He is here, and his spirit is strong, to lay down his life for his friends, without even blood ties to bind him. If he can accept what is now before him, perhaps...
Her thoughts were cut off as she heard the quick sound of bootsteps coming from the corridor. The sacrifice appeared, dressed in the clothes she had laid out for him.
He looked well, she thought. He looked very well indeed, especially without the mat of beard covering half of his face. His hair was a dark brown, matching the color of his eyes, which were the color of fert
