Haunted Wood Way down we go.

staring down at the boy, she feels a twinge of the same thing she felt the first time she'd fought valour, the time she'd hunted down the coyote. but it is only that; a twinge. she's done nothing to be the one staring down at the stranger as he lies broken in the pit; she's done nothing to put him there. and so the pale power she feels wavers and flickers.

uyo. "no." she retorts, asking again, "who are you. why are you here?" a name offers her little, save for something to call him other than man-in-the-pit. his statement earns a quirk of her brow, though little else save an "ok." save diverting a river to him, somehow, she has little idea of how to help, and her sympathy is wane enough as it is.