[Her rage will keep her warm a while longer, but there's a hysteria bubbling under the surface. It's why the first thing Sakura does with her free hands is to cradle herself, arms crossed over her chest and fighting off an invisible chill. Ogata is right, of course; they need to think, not sit in pity. Otherwise they will most certainly be killed on the spot.

-- And worse, she thinks, their bodies will be kept here until they're forced alive again. The Moonblessed can't truly die, after all. Her mind turns to all the ways an angry mob could torture them indefinitely, not needing to concern themselves with gently driving them insane. If those people are anything like mages, they'll cut into the two of them like pieces of meat.

She'll be stuck here. She might not ever get to see Shirou again.

And this damned man who didn't even betray her properly will be trapped here with her, too.]

... Give me your knife, please.

[Holding out her hand, head turned away from him]

I'll handle it.

[...]

And perhaps turn the table over, so they can't shoot at us once they try to come in here.