Isabella stood frozen for several moments, taking in the devastation before her. The reality was so much worse than she had imagined. What had once been a thriving part of their community now looked like a battlefield.
She felt guilt grip her heart. While she had been in her cosy manor, these people had no where to go to.
A small girl, no more than seven years old, sat on a pile of wet wood that had once been part of her family's roof. She clutched a soggy doll to her chest, her big brown eyes following every movement around her. When she spotted Isabella, she quickly looked away, as if she had been taught not to stare at fancy ladies.
Isabella's heart clenched. Without thinking, she walked over and knelt down beside the child, not caring that the mud would ruin her dress.
"Hello there," Isabella said softly. "What's your name?"
"Lilith," The little girl's voice was so low that Isabella almost missed it.
"Lilith," Isabella repeated, "That's a lovely name."
