Tjasa barely noticed when Chiudka placed a hand on her head. She stared at her father's body, as if she believed if she waited long enough she would wake up and this would all have been a horrible nightmare. As the immediate shock began to wear off, she began to weep, whispering "Please, just let me wake up. I'll be good, I promise! I'll do all my chores and I won't yell at Papa when he tracks soot into the cottage, and I won't wander so far in the woods any more, and I'll mind my own business and everything else I'm supposed to do....Please!"
She instinctively looked up when Chiudka called her name. Chiudka's request confused her at first. Why would Chiudka need Grandpa Kisel's bag more than Grandpa Kisel? After a moment, she understood, and nodded. She shakily stood up, realizing as she did so that the cloak she had worked so hard on was now ruined by blood stains. The second after she thought that she wondered what was wrong with her. Papa was ... was dead, Grandpa and Grandma probably were as well, and she was worried about a stupid cloak?
Tjasa took off running, telling herself that if she hurried, maybe Chiudka could help at least some people. She tried not to notice anything on the way to Grandpa Kisel's cottage. She didn't know enough to help anyone, but Chiudka knew more then she did. Maybe with Grandpa's bag Chiudka would be able to save someone. She didn't even really look at anything in the cottage, but went straight to the cupboard across from the hearth. She heard her Grandfather explaining that some of the herbs lost their potency if they got too warm, and closed her eyes for a moment, thanking him for the reminder that the dead were not truly gone.
Tjasa opened her eyes, and made sure the bag was tightly closed before turning around and heading for the tavern as fast as she could fight her way through the snow.