Philomel looked at the two young children and their mother with pity. So ill, so lost to the fates of the world. Such a cruel reality, to face death as it clung to the very air their breathed.

Taking a step towards her new elf companion and the survivors Philomel paused before she realised they did not know fully how the disease spread. Through the air, or by the dank water - it could be both. What was clear though was that the people here, the survivors, were sick from their pale forms and skin-clinging bodies. Grabbing a piece of the swathes of material that were wrapped at her waist she ripped off a scrap to hold it out to Lilly.

"Wrap it over your mouth. Just in case."

She did the same with a second piece, using her dagger to stab into the material. Once done she placed her dagger away and nodded at the woman.

"We can get you food. Fresh food. But what is your name? And are there any other survivors?"

She began to delve into a pouch at her side. In it she found some trail rations, simple dried meat and nuts. It was not fresh, but it would do for now. For any starving child.