Bethany pulled the strap to secure her weapons belt, then propped a boot on the rough-hewn wooden bench to cinch it. "You worry over-much, Watcher Marcus."

"I fear your emotional state may cloud your judgement. Your mother..."

"Is barely cold. My solace is knowing 'twas the blasted Plague that claimed her life." Her throat tightened, forcing her to pause. "She'll not creep from that rank communal grave I need to stand guard over tonight. But others shall." She gave a curt nod. "I must away now."

100 word drabble written for   

Prompt: Write a 100-word story about any slayer in the Lore or one of your own creation.