Morningside Cuesta enter, pursued by a memory

he was leggy and toned in earth, perhaps a year younger than her. or a lifetime, depending on how you looked at it. that this complete foul-mouthed stranger saw right through the ruse of her thin steadiness to the hungry exhaustion beyond — it scorched heda with shame.
"i'm not," she told him, steeling through the shatter of her final pride. "i need help hunting — more than birds and rabbits."
she did not say why, wanting to protect what tiny peace she had made in the bypass for her daughters. heda had rightfully become mistrustful.
"i — i'm not sure how to repay you, if you'll help me."