There are many things Beleth could say to that--that if you aren't useful, what is the point of being alive? That you have to be useful, if you want people to care--and once they stop caring, why bother being alive in the first place?

But he's trying to comfort her. That, and the halla horn.

She stares at it wide-eyed, as if he was giving her an ancient relic. And in a way, it is--a relic of a life that passed into darkness years ago. She had nearly forgotten.

Slowly, she scoots close enough to reach and grasp the bit of antler in her hand. After a few moments of staring, she squeezes it in her hand, and presses her lips into a thin line. They're going to die. She's not that upset with that. But living isn't so bad, either. It's with that in mind that she leans her head on Alan's shoulder, staring at the precious gift in her hand.

"I guess we'll see, won't we."