Firestone Hot Springs i'll check in tomorrow if i don't wake up dead

Poppy. Poppy. Poppy.

Her name hammered like thunder in his ears, drowning out any other sounds that might have dared to permeate the cacophony. The plants held gently in his mouth, he held back sobs as he traveled swiftly back to the springs, stomach aching with the effort.

Poppy had been what had aided Lucy in her final, starving days. . .and the name of their lastborn, their daughter, who had been the first to succumb to the famine.

He felt as if he had failed them all. Felt it every day. Perhaps his drive to help this woman, or everyone else he had come across since then, came from his fear of failing them as well, not some sense of innate goodness or some bullshit like that. Maybe it was all for the sake of his dead.

"Here," Shale mumbled, setting the flowers down a few paces away from Pema, not wanting to get any closer to the scared girl. His amber eyes met hers for a painful instant before he snapped them away, looking down. "Let me know if you need anything else," he murmured, turning away.

He didn't go far but he kept his back to the women. He wanted to be as alone as he possibly could, right now, alone with his sudden and stabbing grief.