A woman laughs…5 liters...
"It’s an awful sound, a thing entirely devoid of mirth. Nowhere near the heartfelt omnipresence of a witch’s cackle and nothing like the innocent laughter of a girl stumbling her way into womanhood. Garrett jumps at the sound and he considers and then reconsiders the woman resting nearby. He listens carefully and he hears Gris using a voice not at all her own."
“You’ve only got one use, bitch.”
"Garrett shifts closer to Gris but he doesn’t dare to put an arm around the woman miming dream words nearby. He whispers instead, answering the disembodied voice."
“She is murder personified, housing all the rage of a thousand hot hells. She is what you made, what you forced her to become.”
"Garrett gets noncommittal murmurs in response as he seizes the objective of the tribal woman’s unconscious banter. “Leave her be, she’s had enough dreaming about ghosts. There is no more use for men like you in this world beyond food and target practice.”
"Gris stops murmuring and jerking around in her sleep after Garrett’s whispers and he’s careful not to move or disturb her as she wakes up in the stinking interior of the hunter’s cabin."
