The sun's peaking over the horizon as the woman stumbles up the road towards the university's gates. Her normally tightly braided grey hair is askew and first glance might dismiss her as a drunk who has wandered too far in the wrong direction. A closer look past her disheveled appearance would see the blood on her torn shirt front, the blood on her hands, and the metallic glinting
shears clutched in her right hand. The shears are also stained with blood, but the blood looks different. She drops to one knee with a grunt of pain and long moment of quiet. Then she struggles to her feet, staggering on towards the gates with determination.
((Open))