MichaelTheArc-Angel

Elle awoke before dawn, unable to sleep. She walked to the river and washed her face, cleaning off the residual tears from her night of depression—her moment of weakness. Enough.  She was done with this doubting, with crying, with feeling any of this pain. She had given everything she had to give. There were no more feelings she could feel. There was very little movement in the camp. A few early risers like her prepared for the camp’s busy activities. The early risers moved methodically, following their routine. It was time. This was never supposed to be permanent. This is a temporary situation, a time for preparation. A light