George remained beside Daniel for a moment. His hands still pressed against the wound even though he already understood it was useless.
Warm blood continued to slip through his fingers, but he no longer tried to stop it. His mind failed to form any clear thought as the weight of what had just happened pressed down on him.
Clara was dead, and now Daniel had followed, yet the realization didn't move through him in waves or bursts. It settled all at once in a heavy and suffocating manner, leaving him empty and unable to grasp anything beyond that crushing loss.
Slowly, his grip loosened, and he pulled his hands away from Daniel's neck while his fingers trembled faintly, stained deep red.
He stared at them for a brief second as if trying to understand something. Then his head turned toward the distance where the most violent clash still continued.
