Firestone Hot Springs A pale being of mist and moonlight

It was difficult to discern what exactly the blanchard meant; Dulce thought it strange that one might forget their own name, though she wasn't quick to judge. They'd only just met each other and such a young relationship was not one that she wanted to spoil with intrusive curiousity. That must be hard, she sighed, unsure of what to say next, I'll have to imagine a name. 

The next sentence came as a whisper, only just soft enough for Dulce to hear but not understand. Sulfur was a word that she hadn't yet come across (understandably). Azufre, she replied, cautious eyes peering over at Olvida, We had some at home. The memory of home was faint, but her recollection of the odor was clear as day.