Embers from a dying fire gave back a little bit of what the night stole, just enough for Ahra to study the nameless man's face. She rested him in her lap. Under a sharp eye, she found him to be rather nondescript. She could feel tattered black clothing hid away a body that was near wasted away from hunger or sickness. Skin that she'd torn open stretched tightly over high cheekbones, but seemed oddly hollow now. The girl lightly thumbed the fatal wound. The blood was still and felt cold.<br/><br/>Ahra wondered if the man would have returned to the Underbelly alone. Did he have a family? Or was he only trying to feed himself? Maybe he needed money for medicine. It didn't matter much, really, but she wondered nonetheless. She could see him before he died or what he could have been. Maybe it took the edge off things, thinking about the people that broke themselves against her.<br/><br/>The body fell to the ground when Ahra stood, but she carried some of the weight anyway. It was lighter than her first and part of her was grateful for that. For a moment, she peeked up through the trees and stared back at the moon, a soft sigh parting her lips. It was a dark night she found herself in and dangerous things played in the dark. It was useless to try and make it back to the Underbelly now, surely it was sealed and the guards were unforgiving to those that broke curfew.<br/><br/>A quick search of the area by light of the cooling fire yielded a small fire arm with considerable ammunition, a knife, and a measly amount of questionable bread. And after a rather harsh wind began to pass through the trees, Ahra retrieved the man's hooded jacket as well. There was little chance of a storm, but the wind was sharp and her mind was beginning to acknowledge an empty stomach. In a few places Ahra frequented, she'd stuffed scarce supplies in the event she visited. With the new gear in hand, she set off for nearest care package somewhere in the ruins dotting around the Underbellies entrance.