[ Her thumb hovers over the screen. If she types, he knows she's there. If she speaks, he knows she's there. If she doesn't— well, it's a gamble. She has out-sneaked killers before, but... not today. No, she doesn't think so today.
She drops the piece of wood and her mouth feels dry from the bark sapping it. The corners of her mouth feel rubbed raw. She looks like a dog that just lost its muzzle. Her voice is low, monotone, not so loud it's immediately obvious where she is. It's colored with rage. One flavor of it. ]
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She drops the piece of wood and her mouth feels dry from the bark sapping it. The corners of her mouth feel rubbed raw. She looks like a dog that just lost its muzzle. Her voice is low, monotone, not so loud it's immediately obvious where she is. It's colored with rage. One flavor of it. ]
Name something.
[ Her mother didn't raise a pussy. ]