Renea Sundance. Renea Hunter. Mother, Wife, Marshal, Soldier, Captain, General. Sister. Friend. Did these things still exist when life fled a body? When just a body remained? A broken husk. She had been been sitting in the tavern after weeks of absence, chatting amiably with a young boy and sharing a meal and someone had appeared behind her with a knife and cut her throat even before the seasoned warrior could react. Her life's blood had drained and the knife had been plunged into her chest, overkill. She had seen nothing of her attacker, only the shock on poor Cherny's face.
And now? Now her body was laid out on some doctors table, stripped bare of clothing, her sword and shield and the badge of office laid out on another. The gaping hole in her throat and the wound in her chest had yet to be stitched but the blood had been washed away and the light brown hair she had so often worn tied back had been cleaned and left loose to hang about her shoulders.
The body looked young, looked healthy but for the mortal wounds to neck and chest. Firm and fit, that of a girl no older than 18 but Renea had been much older until Jarod had decided to 'help'. There were no scars on this body, unexpected for someone who had battled her entire life, more so for someone who had suffered from a wound to her shield arm that had nearly caused that arm to be removed (or had been removed, depending on who you heard the story from). That she had been the target of some magical energies was without doubt, but those energies didn't seem to be able to help her now as the shell that had once been hers lay spread on the cold hard surface awaiting disposal.