Why do they choose us? Why do we become their food source?

[She could assume for herself that it was her poor luck, accompanying the lost of her husband and her realization of her mother's involvement. Why not be taken by the gods as some sort of sacrifice? Was that not what her mother intended? Making her a sacrifice for her mother's ambitions?

She pulled a nearby flower, tugging off the petals as she forced away her frustrations. He didn't deserve her irritation.]

I'm already tired, my lord. I hope that I find some who I can trust as you have.

[But she isn't sure and she doesn't want to consider it very much yet. It only made her head spin and make her feel so small compared against the world.]

You have a pretty way of putting things. Most wouldn't give weeds such a poetic description.