**
Under her covers, Alannah flinched at the sound of each concussion as it clapped and echoed through the air and shook the ground. When she heard the people approaching she was tempted to cry out, but the feel of a gun at her head stopped her. She couldn't suppress a gasp of fear as Rosemary discharged her firearm. She was feeling somewhat revived after being given food and drink, but felt weak and sweaty, as though recovering after a fever. Weapons! Guns and swords! Tools of organised murder! She was sick of them, sick of the sight of them and what they represented, sick of the sound of destruction. She too had been taught to use them with proficiency as part of her upbringing, but only because she had been given no choice in the matter and hadn't known any better at the time.