"My childhood..." Dutch trails off, frowning. It was a convoluted mess for the most part. Her parents had loved her, cared for her, but then the harem had happened and she'd thought her life was set. She'd thought she'd be protected and set forever. She hadn't expected Khylen. She hadn't expected to be made into a weapon, into a killer.

"Let's see what I can remember," Dutch says, foregoing any elaboration and stepping closer to the easel. The only thing she can think of some of the other girls in the harem but she knows she won't be able to draw them. They're too complicated. Her husband is another option but that seems wrong.

So, instead she draws what she remembers of her bedroom. The bed with the red blanket, the window with stars pasted onto it, the rug that was ripped in one corner. The drawings aren't good but she's trying.