There's a frantic moment where she wants to fight back, but even her startled movement makes the knife bite at her neck. Foolish, she hadn't been paying attention. She takes a breath through her nose to calm herself, running through her collection of things that had been lost.

The Disciple can only nod. Her food is gone, the tent abandoned when a tear made it useless. Losing the water would be a death sentence she knows, a long slow one.