Vieira did not wait to see if Eris had anything to say. She ran with the bucket in hand—something she would not have if she had not backed up into it—and did not stop for a break until she was anywhere near the caves. She ran as if Eris was hot on her trail and the only protection she had was Kaena and that was nothing she could trust but the only thing she could do. The faith in the elderly woman faltered in the entire meeting with Eris, that the idea Kaena would protect her was all gone and she resorted back to the thoughts of nothing. Where did not not have trust, distrust did not exist. She lived purely based on action and the demands of whomever owned her. And now, anything she had built in the last few months were gone, shattered, and if they were to return she would not know.
The scent of the caves, of those that lived there, filled her nose, and slowly she came to trot from where she had come. Her knuckles ached from gripping the handle as hard as she could and a raw spot formed where it had been hitting and rubbing against her legs but the ache there did not bother her. None of it did. She was breathing heavily, bent over as she walked, her free hand on her hip and she realized she ached there. Vieira did not have the stamina as a runner, which caused her legs to give out and hit the ground. The bucket was forgotten, some feet away, and she was landed somewhere near her garden. Her cheeks were still wet from her tears, even if the ceased while she had been running, but now as she were on the ground outside the group of caves, she started to cry again.
Vieira heaved a long breath, unable to get enough wind after the run in addition to trying to cry at the same time. Her eyes closed tightly as she tried to regain any sort of relief from the pain she felt but it was hopeless and she just tried to suffer through it, riding it out until it was over.