Deepwood Weald I can do this all for you

Bridget pulled a pretty indiscreet face at the wolf's tone as they came into view. Is this bitch for real? She had to be, though. No way Bridget's head could manifest a stick as big as the one shoved up her ass.

You talk a lot, princess. The nickname rolled out with a bit of a tone and wasn't exactly meant as a compliment, though Bridget had to admit the woman was stunning. Insufferable, but stunning nonetheless.

I'll call you next time a deer falls dead in front of me. Otherwise there's fish in the river. A little swim might take down the swelling. Yours... not mine. Bridget grinned. Get it? Because she had a fat head.

She was a medic. She didn't need help from this stranger who had the gall to come, out of nowhere, and essentially call her an idiot. Actually... she'd kind of literally done it, hadn't she?

Fuck that. Bridget pushed herself to her (good) feet and took a few measured, but stilted, steps towards the water. Maybe if she ignored her the bitch would get the hint.