Wapun Meadow running home, running home

the firmness in which he wished to see the bruise was not expected, and yet the snowwoman relented anyway, allowing his view. it is fine, came her half-assed assurance. though she had experienced worse, seen worse, felt worse, it had been a while since she had garnered a wound of any sort, and so, now, this measly bruise stung like a kiijaulluni. worse has happened, nanuralaaq confirmed. it is just bruise.

for one would be silly to think that the healer would want to be healed. perhaps she was too independent in her injuries, but she knew that she could handle her pain on her own. but, almost weary, she said: ... how does it look?