@fakeddeath asked: " that's quite a scratch you've got there. "
the rearmost room of the cabin, bereft of everything but a glimmer of candlelight and a cooling bath, offered a precious sliver of solitude — a moment of scarce quiet in which natalie, unraveled makeshift bandage half - wound around her hand, all but seemed to tune out the muffled chatter coming in through the latched door; the thin, hunger - laced conversation.
the quest for something normal when starvation and exposure had so viciously threatened it.
in a jarring instant, the quietude shattered, the sudden incursion of a clear voice plucking nat out of her laser - focus before she'd even noticed the shifting firelight and moving, scattershot shadow — or the perennially hat - bearing silhouette catching the dirt speckled window pane over her shoulder.
drawing her long pants back up and over the wound in question, like she'd been caught red - handed, nat simply shook her head. to call the serrated, half - dressed laceration she'd hastened to cover up a scratch was an understatement. the jagged edge of it pulled when she moved, raw and still stinging with the snow she'd packed around it when no one had been around to bear witness. burned, even when she didn't. still, it didn't hurt any worse than losing an entire limb. it ached no worse than she was sure travis did, day in, day out.
" yeah... it was a stupid accident, " she lied. she didn't elaborate; couldn't, when it was tangible proof of the falsehood she'd spun for travis. " it's fine. seriously. "
