The chains draped around her shoulder made me recall the war armor handed out in the blood soaked fields. She looked over her shoulder and caught me looking on, expressionlessly recalling where I had come from, and what a trying journey it had already been. To see her was almost too much. Her skin was damp and greasy, her damages seeped slowly towards the ground as all things do. She was in no place to make any acknowledgements. Her chore was the greatest burden known, and she performed it rather effortlessly. The unceasing reminders had made her dull to the searing scene, and her calves reflexively tensed at my absent facad, as if to part or pounce at once.