Haunted Wood I think I was wrecked all along.

She was right - it had been a long forty eight hours. Bridget was tired, hungry, and just dozing off when she heard Towhee splash into the stream. Her eyes shot open with a start and she sat up, yawning. Ah, shit.

She wasn't drowning herself, but was washing the wound instead. Good, it was a sign she was at least feeling better, but Bridget could tell still that 'better' was still a step below 'absolute shit'. Venom was nasty business and she still wasn't convinced it wouldn't turn.

So the last thing Towhee needed was to traipse across the wilds, even if she did feel the need to get home. I wouldn't suggest it. She answered plainly, shaking and getting to her paws. Shit, she was tired. Hard to sleep with the image of waking up to a corpse instead of a patient. Maybe the morning after, but you need to let it leave your system. Any physical activity or strain would only aggravate it, she figured. Frankly, you don't look up to it, and I'm not up to carrying you.

She couldn't force the woman to stay but she was bound to giving her honest opinion.