Ugh. Focus is absolutely shot. Probably related to how fucked up my sleep was last night.
Stopping early, got 586 words written, so that's something.
Final lines:
“I need to think,” she said finally, as much to the staring wolves as to Aswathi. “I need time to think,” she said more firmly. “Come back tomorrow and... and we will talk.”
“Of course,” Aswathi withdrew his hand and bowed slightly. “I would make you happy, I promise.” And he turned and walked away.
Word spread quickly through the refugee camp, as such things often do.