Only those chosen to be my witnesses were left. They staggered about, lost after crawling out from under the dead. They all found their way to the girl, still praying. Broken in a way that could not be fix. They wasted no time in deciding to leave her there.
I waited for them to choose their paths. To get a head of them would rob them of their purpose. They tried to do this themselves by attempting to leave together. So I took their faith in my hands once again. They have a story to tell, fear to spread.
With out a sound I was understood, pointing each in the direction they must go. Careful not to waste, my witnesses only number eight. With blood still dripping from my bones and death in the air. None dare argued and when forth to fulfil their purpose.