Fuyume skidded to a halt in the middle of the corridor, fingers tightening on her box of vials. Across from her was someone young, probably not any older than herself. They were accompanied by two more around the same age, maybe slightly older, and a woman with a scythe. None wore Garlean uniforms, and that was good enough for her. She couldn't afford to be picky.
"Please," she rasped, voice hoarse. "Please help me."



















