Phantom Hollow they say poison is a lady's weapon

sky and blue and hurt and then there is a shadow and the shadow is a woman. she draws rattling breath and she hears but does not register the woman who blots out the sky. the woman needs no charade for the woman can make no sense of it anyways. there is something wrong. and things clear, momentarily, and she realizes that her forelimb is quivering still. the woman is offering her something, but there is something wrong and her lips curl back. "do not-"  she words are interrupted as she heaves herself onto her feet.

but she's still on the ground and nothing's changed, and the disconcerting feeling spreads and turns nausea to vomiting once more. vulgar and sharp, she scent is prominent again, and she may or may not have splattered the shadow that blots out the sun. "do not touch me."  instant bades her stand, for there is nothing worst to be sick and weak and stranded and in the presence of a stranger. 

and then she's standing, and she must have tried again and this time succeeded. or perhaps the first time had succeeded after all, and she does not know, and her heart is still driving against the walls of her chest. and her legs give out and the ground is familiar, and so is the dark.