Tabathia was barely surviving on her own. She waited to see if another creature ate something before she did and even if given a perfect chance, she refused to kill, even for food, a human excuse for bloody hands. At the darker hours of the day she had no light, so she would attempt to climb a tree. If she managed to get up into one it had taken many tries. Most nights she just leaned on a tree, her hands and feet sore. A few days of this and Tabathia's foot and hand wrappings were not just unclean and stained, but they were ragged, worn and falling off. She removed them, attempted to clean them in the stream she had been following and using for water, and the one string of wrapping that wasn't shredded she hung from her neck to dry. It was still stained and dirty though. The thin, rough rope that held her pouch on her shoulder chaffed but at least it held. Almost daily she would switch the pouch to the other shoulder. The day after she removed the bandages she wrapped her left shoulder and hung the pouch off her left shoulder but the pouch was on her right. It was tighter than she liked but it was safer, and should be less painful. A few days later she found a waterskin, and with no one around to claim it she took it and filled it with water from the river. Just about two weeks after Tabathia left the village she was trying to get a fruit just a few inches up higher than she could jump. Her clothes were torn in many places, obviously not made for the type of use the girl put them though. She paused, bent low, and closed her eyes. Opening her eyes slowly she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She looked up at the branch and followed it with her eyes from tip to base. She bounced slightly on her knees, took a slow, deep breath, and jumped. Somehow she jumped high enough to easily grasp the fruit and pluck it by landing from the jump. To say the least, she was amazed, but didn't care too much as she hungrily bit into the fruit. Tabathia smiled, the squirrel had been right. This was a sweet and juicy fruit. Looking up there were no other fruit that looked just as this one had, no guarantee they were ripe, or even not poisonous. She finished the fruit, dropped the core for the squirrel and wiped her mouth with her dirty sleeve. She looked at the stream, looked down at herself and walked over to the stream. There she sat, studying her reflection. Her semi-long, tangled blonde/brown hair, her pale violet eyes. Cautiously she poked the water, testing it. It was cold and she shivered at the thought but there was no point since she had made up her mind. Unwillingly she climbed into a pool of the stream. 'It's not cold, it's freezing!' she mumbled to herself. Quickly she tried to gently wash her clothes, and while at it, herself. In a blink she gasped, jumped out and checked the pack, pulling it off. She sighed, the water was shallow, it hadn't reached her waist. She held the rope tightly unwilling to part with it. Slowly she placed it on the bank of the pool, just out of range of where she had just, and planned to, jump out. Not looking away from the pack she climbed back in and continued trying to make herself look more presentable even if it was unlikely she would need to be. She eventually climbed out, shivering, but more adapted to the water’s temperature so that the air around her almost felt warm. Tabathia wrung out her hair and clothes. She put the pouch on her shoulder, and noticed and string of cloth hanging on the tree, a sash, she took it, put it on and smiled before she took off running. Tearing though the woods she ran, her feet caked with mud, her hair dripping. When she could run no more she sighed, smiling, and just walked. She had no idea where she was going or headed.
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