Scraps

There was a moment of silence, and he glanced over to see what the delay was, and found the surprise in her eyes. Astonishment, really. Disbelief. He gritted his teeth and pulled the last bit of skin a little more roughly then he had intended. Dammit. He didn't need more attachments in his life. Another life to worry about, but it happened anyway. Against his better judgment he felt rage boil in his stomach. They had hurt this girl, truly hurt her. Emotionally, mentally, physically. Dammit, but she was HIS.

"Iris is a fine name" he said, softening his voice on purpose. He tossed down the excess of herbs and turned from her abruptly, annoyed at himself. "When will your wounds be well enough for physical labor, little Iris?" He asked as he began to pack away the herbs, tossing them into the bag and leaving them within her reach.