She was definitely frightened, but immensely happy at the same time. She felt wrong, as well as so right. Her feelings were jumbled and clashing with each other, as the brunette angel petted her hair and held her close. Mira didn't want to be let go, didn't want to return to reality. Within the teen's arms, she felt as if she was home, where her family was smiling, laughing, and filling her with love. But she knew that she was not, knew that she was in a bad place that she didn't want to be. The vomit that lined the bottom of her nightdress served to outline that.

Quickly coming to a conclusion, the young pinkette gave the teen a brief hug, thankful for the embrace and love she had been given, then stepped out of the hold onto reality once more. The smell of smoke filled her nostrils as ashes flew into the sky. A man was on the ground, his sword laying next to him, the other male questioning a woman who didn't seem as welcoming as the teen she had been with. Taking a moment to steady her breath, as she did instinctively when she shot the Hound, she looks towards the gun in her hand, sighting another of the same make a few feet away, tucked within a leather holster next to a bag. The girl takes the holster and belts it around her waist, placing the first gun within it to free her hands, then takes the bag and slings it across her shoulder. She was killed, she has killed, and now she will kill to protect the one who reminds her of life. That was the new motto that ran through her head, the conclusion that she had found and had focused herself upon as she had first left the brunette teen. 

She will follow it, even until another death, because she will not lose a 'life' ever again. She will be strong, and learn how to lose her fear.