Blackfoot Forest Fehu

it was as she thought. there was some sympathy - a rare thing from her - directed toward the man. a surge of something she felt had been lost. the mind was a terrible thing to lose. she had trained and honed her own for countless months, only to be faced now with her worst fear. perhaps not Huntington's Disease, but dementia. her namesake would be a bit favorable compared to that. at least the killing of the mind was a mercy compared to fleeting glances into the past. "what is your name?" the woman would ask, this time a bit gently. if he could hold onto that, there was some hope.