Brenna stared at the hands. She had caved into the woman's wishes. She had caved into letting the woman guide her. But she could stand up on her own. She had the blood of the North in her. Weakness was for Southerners. "No. I will stand up myself." And so she did. It was a sad spectacle. A slow procession. Hands clung to the walls for support as her legs unfolded pushed her up. Though she would never admit it, she was glad it would not be far.