@draelith with Cullen and Jalon
Haven was gone, flattened by an avalanche and dragon fire—or whatever that blighted dragon was spitting out.
They'd finally settled for the night, and Jalon did what she did best: go around and tend to the injured. Almost everyone had a few cuts and bruises, but there were a handful that she wasn't sure would make it the night. Still, she and Adan did everything they could for them before he sent her away to take a break.
She would not be taking a break. There were more wounds to tend to than just physical. The faraway looks in people's eyes from shock was proof of that. So Jalon started passing out blankets and ushering stragglers to the fires to warm themselves. There was little sense in everyone freezing to death.
Their misery was enough for Hope to stir in the back of Jalon's mind in agitation, and Jalon worked quickly to try and cheer people up as she went. It wasn't going well; their situation was quite hopeless at the moment, and Hope demanded that she fix it.
"I'm trying," she had muttered to them.
The advisors were not exempt from her mothering, and the Commander was her final victim. The one she was not necessarily dreading, but not looking forward to either. The man unnerved her, but she put on a brave face and approached him with a steaming mug.
"You should really sit a moment, sir," she urged, passing him the mug of tea. It was weak, the cooks not having enough tea left to make a stronger brew for everyone, but something warm to drink was better than nothing in this weather. It was barely brewed tea or nothing. How the cooks managed to salvage anything at all in the chaos was beyond her...
"Or at least for a minute or two. We're not going anywhere anytime soon." He'd been through enough; he needed rest too. "You can't lead your soldiers if you're dead on your feet."