Firestone Hot Springs behind closed eyes

Oh yes, Lane had heard the man rattling toward her from a long way off. She cracked an eye open, watching the enormous man lumbering a snaking path through the springs. Squinting, Lane thought she could see a skull hanging off his side. From a distance, it looked like he had enjoyed a successful hunt, and he was carrying the leftovers home to his pack. Well, good for him. From the look of the man, his pack already ate well, and now they would be eating even better. Lane closed her eyes once more, fully expecting the man to pass her by and go on about his business.

Instead, he stopped to address her, his voice a rumbling baritone. Vein. A "healer" and a high priest, oh fucking hell. Was she a magnet for crazies? Lane turned over her shoulder toward the man, fully intending to send him on his way somehow. Maybe she'd pretend like she couldn't speak Common or..

"Whoa. Kickass." Oops, so much for pretending she didn't speak the language. But really, his herb-sling-thingamajig was absolutely ingenious. Lane had mistaken it for prey from far away.

"Guess I'm old-fashioned," she said, gesturing toward her own medkit, which was laying in the snow a few feet away. It was the typical medic's set: a few essentials wrapped up in cobwebs like a brick.

"Name's Lane." Lane didn't answer his question because honestly, she had completely forgotten it. She was far too distracted by the thingamajig. "And, sorry.. what else was it?" she asked, bidding him to repeat himself.