She'd heard of this. What they were doing to the young Herian who had just watched her father maimed and killed in front of her. She'd never seen it done, of course, Dhavihal would have never allowed even the thought of it, not even to a laim'lan. Not even to a shem'len, although she'd no doubt that Mirsedis and Nymii had anyway.

Nari looks away before the first nail goes in, but she still winces at the high sound of a child in agony that follows it.

"You're right. I'll... leave," she says to one of the barren garden walls. It's colder here now, in her makeshift shelter that suddenly seems flimsy.