She sits hunched in the same corner that she had found upon first arriving and had yet to recognize a face. Her bow and quiver are clutched close to her chest. They're not the gleaming silver ones from the arena but something simpler, something meant to be more practical. Just as lethal, but something meant to blend in with the surroundings rather than stand out. She holds it almost as one would a safety blanket rather than the weapon it actually is.

Her eyes roam around the bar, taking in all the people. Eyeing each and every one with the same suspicion. But when her gaze finally falls on Mags, her face pales. Eyes go wide and her chin drops, mouth parted in shock. She doesn't speak, though. Doesn't say a word. Because this is impossible. She saw Mags die. Walk off into the mist, sacrificing herself...

She doesn't stop staring as the memories play in her head, as haunting awake as they are when she's asleep.