Washed Out in the Mind of Me

Something had changed with the days, the weather- something. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was yet. The trip to the red forest took a toll on her; but she was tough as nails and did not let her fatigue show. She’d be damned if his earlier concern had footing. It was not so much that she’d been debilitated or anything, it was simply the pain itself that had begun to scrape away her mental fortitude. She supposed it had to do with the way the cat’s nails were hook-like in structure, that they had pierced her deeper than she had ever been used to… She shook the rationalization away in favor of paying close attention to the work Aresenn had set himself to do. A knife striking a flint, kindling added, and a blaze was born. She watched him work, opting to not wear herself ragged by intentionally putting herself to work despite her condition. She’d assured him that she was fine, and she was… but dragging logs around was pushing it.

She eyed him as he finally settled down. She was a few steps to his right, seated so that the warmth of the fire would keep her comfortable despite the chill of night. Then she set her eyes on the fire, watching the fire dance and sway; embers flying past her onto the ground where they died. It didn’t take long before Aresenn spoke, digging through his bag. He’d asked if she was hungry. Well, she couldn’t say that she wasn’t. And it would be better to get some strength back anyways. “Got any cat meat in that bag? I feel like I didn’t get enough revenge on that fucker.” She sighed, a playful edge entering her tone. Even if her wounds stung it wouldn’t stop her banter.
wormwood