Gwen carefully took a dress from the cabinet.
The dress was a lovely bright yellow, faded from countless washes, yet it remained Gwen's most precious possession.
Her mother had made it for her by hand.
Gwen slowly took off her old clothes. They were already tattered beyond repair, barely enough to cover her body.
Then she put on the dress and did her best to smooth out its wrinkles.
She had originally wanted to take a bath and put on the dress nice and clean, but she was too weak. She probably would not make it through the bath.
After changing into her prettiest dress, Gwen spun around a few times. The dress was light and thin, like a butterfly fluttering its wings, and she giggled.
After admiring herself for a while longer, she lay down on the only wooden plank bed in the house and slowly closed her eyes.
She was finally going to die.
Ever since her parents had left, Gwen had been hiding at home for nearly half a year. She had never received any news from them. Instead, war had broken out nearby.
Soldiers came and went. Fortunately, Gwen's house was shabby enough that no one paid it any attention. She hid in the cellar and quietly watched the soldiers come and go through a small hole.
This had once been a small village, with many kind villagers and several of her good friends. Now, she was the last living person in the village.
After searching everywhere nearby and finding no food, Gwen looked at her wrists, thin as dry sticks, and knew she would soon see her father and mother.
So she put on her favorite dress and lay quietly on the bed.
Today was the day she was going to die. It ought to