"There's nothing here."
There was a note of surprise in her voice like she'd actually expected something else. Her hands were dusty from digging. Her sleeves were torn and ragged and streaked with blood.
She'd hardly felt the stones cutting her as she pawed through the rubble.
"I'm sorry," Cynthia said, because she didn't know what else to say. She didn't know what it was like to have a family still alive. The yoma had killed everyone she'd cared about.
She hadn't had a past to return to. But it was different for Yuma. Cynthia couldn't really understand why Yuma was so eager to return to a family who had sold her, but she wouldn't judge her.
"Maybe there are bones underneath..." Yuma looked around, more resigned than desperate, but the place was only ruins and more ruins.
The only life there stirred in the birds and the insects humming about them. As for people, there were only the two of them; as for humans, there were none.
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