Golden Glade It rips you to shreds.

A strange expression flickered across Sugar's face when he called her a "bitch," before it fell into a carefully blank mask, her black eyes abruptly shuttered. All desire to continue the conversation faded and any urge to help him in his hunting fled her as well. Just as with her every emotion thus far regarding the stranger, the young girl couldn't entirely explain it. She just knew she wanted nothing more to do with him.

Sugar was nothing if not polite and well-mannered. "I guess you don't need my help then, after all," she said coolly but politely. She gave him a brief, curt nod and then spun on a pale heel, making a beeline back toward the copse, abandoning her search for any plant life. It was futile, just like her wish that the boys and men in her life would stop being so awful.