is there any hope left?

Her ears heard his approach, but her brain did not acknowledge it. Her eyes were lost in the dancing flames of the fire as her companions tried to feed her something, anything. But her jaw stayed pressed close, teeth bared at them as a pathetic growl loosed into the darkening air. They would soon give up, only hoping that she would attempt at some point. Resigned, Binti and Tassi look up, fur bristling as they sight the very large man coming closer. He is not of Hemlock, his scent strange and alluring.

At the sound of their warning growls that only dampen when he stops a distance away, Delphi looks up. She eyes him warily as his rugged tenor breaks through the crackle of her fire. It takes a moment to register his question. Infected. She supposed that's what she was now. Would the infected ever be cured? Delphi can't help the fear that flashes across her face. Was she truly going to die?

"A few days ago." There's a gruff edge to her tone that dampens the usual spitfire energy. "My adoptive grandfather slayed the wolf that did it, but it was too late. My stupidity," Delphi cuts herself off. Instead, she lifts her injured leg to the light. She refused to wear bandages. The thought of trapping the worms beneath her skin was horrifying and disgusting. So it grew infected around the edges though the inner, tender skin areas were healing slowly. Her companions washed and slathered ointment on it daily, but a scar would remain. "My blood is harmful to those that ingest it. It's almost like getting a sharp zap to your tongue or tastes as if you're eating poison. I thought it would work," her lips lift in a snarl that's aimed at herself. How could she have been so stupid?

"Delphi"