Greatwater Lake the undertaker's thirst for revenge is unquenchable

Since joining the ranks of Teaghlaigh, Kitsch had filled out quite a bit. Her ribs did not jut out so starkly and her hips regained their girlish roundness and her personality, too, had begun to flesh out once more. The girl was young and her body easily bounced back from destitution — she started eating again and just like that her youthful energy was back! Kitsch was able to run and jump and cavort about as she did before and again she was restless, unable to stay confined to one place. Arturo ran a tight ship but still Kitsch had enough solitude to slip away unnoticed for a few days, which she did often. It was not as much for her love of exploring [of which, she really had none] but instead to mill about and look for clues for her family's whereabouts; any way to get back to her family and domain. The pearl so missed her family and her position and simply refused to give up hope for it.

That’s where the ink-dipped girl was that day: walking along, her charcoal toes each tapping the ground in quick succession as she proceeded onwards in her bouncy gait.  Kitsch walked without fear of the wilderness, for she was no longer dying and the young girl reckoned that nothing bad could ever befall her again; she was Kitsch, after all! 

Kitsch plodded along until the briny scent of blood drifted past her nares. Kitsch’s charcoal-tipped nose lifted to the wind and drank in the scent, following it to a woman laying amongst the grasses. Kitsch could be blasé about just about anything; but physical injury was something the provided and immediate threat and it unsettled the oujo. Kitsch rushed the fallen stranger, suddenly unable to hide her concern and not caring if the neighboring bison stayed or left. Her aquamarine gaze probed the various wounds the mottled stranger sustained. “Oh! Ma’am, are you hurt?” Stupid, Kitsch! Obviously she is! “I mean — you must be in pain. How can I help you?”