She still knew she was weak. She still knew she might not make it.
She still knew she wanted to fight.
She did not speak up again, because her position had already been given. Her voice had been heard, if only by Wessex. The unity that the woman wanted, however, did not seem to be happening. Letha pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her shins, fingers picking at the hem of her skirt beneath the cloak.
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Letha chooses to fight the monsters.