and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass

Maeve

He's not wrong. Maeve is dreading this. She had been before, but now it weighs heavier on her shoulders. It feels like there is ash still in her lungs and blood still on her hands despite how many times she's scrubbed them raw. Maeve heads up the trail to where Locke told her to meet him, steps heavy and stomach turning almost violently with trepidation as her boots sink into the ashy sand mixture that makes up the path. This is necessary. She can't avoid it. If she's going to be a tool of use to those in her life then she needs to do this.

Maeve finally pushes through the underbrush, breaking into the small clearing where Locke and the goat she's meant to kill are waiting for her. She manages a wane smile, approaching him slowly as she draws in a breath, "Hey... Thanks for doing this for me."

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need