Firestone Hot Springs and them of us that's too weak

The rattlesnake did not speak.

It was not as if she couldn’t. She knew her words existed in the space beyond her thundering heart. But she had no need for them.

Colt pushed them hard, but she had gone beyond pain in the dark, in her small spaces where small lives took form. The ghoulish gouges in the skin of her face were healing well, though the scabs would crack if she moved her mouth too much, so she did not. Her tail was a different story, the once long counterweight now shortened into a rabbit like stump.

Still, she did not speak, she did not complain, she just marched with eyes like a wild thing, mouth set in an emotionless line.

It was only when she was released that her eyes would turn from watching to the two with her. Those eyes like a wild thing, the eyes with their wide, haunted expression, before she would settle nearby to Sadey. The rattlesnake did not rest, though, and sat curled, poised, twisted into a striking position as she had been every time she laid down since finding the remnants of the Gang.