She was filthy, everywhere. And...and...there were bruises rising on her body where he'd grabbed at her, and she could feel each one like a tiny fire on her skin. Bruises on her arms, on her legs, on her chest, on...on...She choked back a sob and slid her head under the water.

hands grabbing

choking

dead

She gasped and yanked her head out of the water with a muffled scream, biting down hard on a knuckle to keep from sobbing. The memory of that awful, drowning instant clawed through her, and she trembled. Bruises, she decided, would be a blessing. Those black fingerprints felt like a brand. She satisfied herself with splashing some water on her face and pulling her fingers through her hair, wincing as each tangle was ripped apart.

When she was done, she settled back on her haunches and simply stared at her haggard reflection in the water. The tears were warm on her cheeks, and when she closed her eyes she could only see red wolves behind her eyelids.

She'd slept, in spite of herself, and awakened in the morning from dreams of teeth that ripped and hands that grasped. She'd awakened into a shadowy pre-dawn world in the early morning, and been too afraid of the dark to go back to sleep. She'd never been afraid of the dark before.

Her reflection looked so sad. She hurt everywhere, and she was alone and lonely and lost. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, there was something different about her reflection, just for a second, and then it was gone.

dead

But the image, however fleeting, stayed with her. She reached up and touched her hair, where, out of its usual tied-back state, it fell against her bare shoulder. She rubbed it between her fingers and thought for a little while, then she rose to her feet and looked at her whole body, naked, in the reflection of the stream. She even smiled a little.

It was all very logical, really.

With one hand she tightened her grip on the rock, with the other she gathered up her hair in her fist and drew it back tightly, so hard it hurt. The rock was perfect because it was blunt on one end and sharp on the other, like the point of a spear. A lucky find.

So.

With the hand grasping the rock, she reached back and used the jagged edge to saw at her hair, very near her skin. After a moment it caught, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes as it began to saw through.

When the first clump of hair came away in her hand, she wanted to cry, but forced herself not to. Instead, she smoothed her hair down against her head and looked into the water. Her hair was shorn now very short at the back, but still too long in the front, so she'd need to cut again.

So she did, and when she was done, she didn't look too much like herself anymore, at least not in the face. Maybe it was too short, but there wasn't much she could do about that now. She gathered up the hair in her hands and dropped it into the stream, watched it swirl away to rejoin the sea. Next, she knelt beside the pile of clothes that still lay where she'd dropped them. She looked at her shoes and shook her head sadly...they were all wrong, which meant she'd need to go barefoot, at least for a little while. She tossed them into the stream, too, and withdrew her shirt instead, then took up her jagged rock again. She'd nicked herself on the back of the neck, and there was a bit of blood on the edges.

The clothing proved a little bit more difficult than her hair had, and in the end she was forced to stand up and plant her foot in the center of the shirt while drawing the sleeve tight with her free hand, then sawing away at it near the shoulder. After a moment, it came free, and she repeated the process on the other sleeve.

There was something about this, she knew, that was wrong, intrinsically wrong, but she couldn't seem to find the hole in her logic...

hands grasping

She sawed faster.

When she was done, she slit the sleeves down the inside seam and tied the two strips of cloth together, and with them bound her breasts against her chest...it hurt, but she'd always been kind of boyish in that regard anyway, so it was easier than she'd thought. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it would do until she could contrive something better.

Then there was nothing else to do, so she got dressed. Then she looked in the water again, and didn't really recognize the person who stared back at her.

...which was the point. But she cried for awhile anyway.

The sunlight was bright when she stepped out, barefoot, from beneath the tries, and blinked up at the sky. She'd cut herself a staff and leaned on it, and even smiled, though it was forced. She found her way onto the road that headed north from Radat, and she even walked past Ryube, though she didn't stop.

There were no more red wolves behind her eyes.