[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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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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[Sure, he always knew she was a tough gal, but she was always a normal wolf human.]
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[And yet, there sits a broken bench. One she has no intention of repairing.]
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[At least it's probably self repairing.]
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It is because I was their prisoner. [Maybe that will be enough for him.]
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[Or he'd be dead by now.]
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[Here, fine, look at the marks on her arm.]
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[Completely missing the point and oh, what's that on her arm?]
What's that on your arm?
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