[It's becoming less and less unusual to see San around the village during the day. This day, regardless of the weather, she's sitting on the fountain's edge with one hand in the water to the wrist. She's not looking at much of anything.
In all fairness, she's not thinking much of anything either. Her thoughts are pretty well dominated by that hand
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San?
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[It's no longer a sharp 'what?' at least.]
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[Far away from people who might find out.]
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Did the Malnosso put you here?
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No, this was done by others in the village.
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...Then the humans are...not as I thought.
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You umm... might want to take it easy there, San.
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The wood is already dead.
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[Her hand is already wrapped past the wrist in whatever scraps she had around, anyway.]
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