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There are only so many times she can take her herbs off their shelves, arrange them, rearrange them then do it again, only so many times she can take something down, and look at it. Recite what it's use is and put it back. She knows that she can't keep her mind off it forever. What if something bad had happened? What if they had been caught? Images flash in her mind of them coming back covered in blood, or worse, dragging a limp body between them. She shuts her eyes tight, trying to will those images away from her mind but they live in her head and she can still see them dance behind her eyelids. She lets out a heavy sigh before making her way out of the den and settling down within view of the entrance, her eyes trained on it. She tucks her legs underneath her and lays down, preparing to wait with bated breath for their return so that she could spring into action the moment they did, if she was needed, of course. Her head always goes to the worst-case scenario.
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