Great Bear Wilderness in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold and blood and flame

the stranger inspects her wound, not before paying her a quick compliment. she nods in return. perhaps a kinder version of the girl would have returned the sentiment, for he had performed just as well as she, if not better. yet, she was not kind. it was simply not essential to her survival. 

"i don't need rest." not to say that rest was for the weak... but that was exactly what she believed. scylla had survived worse on fewer hours. 

"i need marigold. and poppy seeds." she spoke mostly to herself whilst not breaking eye contact with the man. one would fight infection and the other, for the pain. however, he was right in stating that cold water would do her well -- flushing out any incoming infection was the logical move.

in a purposeful tone does the yearling ask of him, “water. where is it?” for the topography of the land had long escaped her memory. scylla briefly considered that perhaps her curtness would become a problem, however, figured her father would have likely ripped his toe off by now and proceeded to bite the stranger’s head off just for good measure so at least her conscious remained intact if not her manners.