Bramblepoint We’re going to your place

it takes her just a little over a year to return to lands her mother once roamed, in search of nobody and nothing in particular. the loner life of solitude did not faze the young woman too much... but when it came to considering what the future held for her, isolation did not feel appealing in the slightest. thus, with a small pocket of poisons and herbs wrapped tightly in her jaw, she ventured inland with very little notion as to where she intended to go. 

upon her gaze befalling the hunkered stranger, instinctively do her ears pull back and the girl squints apprehensively. it winces as it lumbers on through the bramble and bush, and she gravitates slowly forth -- intrigued by the injuries it bore. scylla observes the scars splashed across his hide, putting the pieces together as the metallic scent of dried blood and slowly closing wounds begun to fill her nostrils. had she not discovered her father in such a state no less than a dozen times before? the stranger even bore the similar slash across the throat that she had never seen her father without, and she cannot help the audible snicker that passes across her lips. was this an injury only dumb men sustained? 

scylla prances forth, unable to see the beaten man as a threat in any capacity. she too was a towering creature to behold, if not slightly leaner. interesting the man in his path, she plants herself directly before him and drops the bundle of herbs at her feet. only then does she see notice his eye. "you look like you hurt." as blunt as it was, it was true. he looked like he was narrowly surviving infection, let alone the pain of his injuries.