The woman, who could actually hardly be called such, being noticeably younger than Dahlia, quickly reached out, catching the girl's arm before she was beyond her reach. Her hands were quite rough, and though her grip was strong, there was no malice or anger in it. There was only support and a desire to help.
"No no, it's okay Miss," she said softly through her accent. "I can clean it up. You need to keep lying down for now. We don't want that cut in your side to open back up..." Her voice trailed off as she rose to help the girl stand, offering to guide her back to the bed.
She was quite tall for a lady, especially since she could not have been older than seventeen. She looked like a willow tree; long and thin with a long fringe of wispy hair hanging in her face. She was very tan, and that silky mane of her's was almost the same color as her skin, with only tiny sections bleached by the sun. Her eyes were strikingly bright even through it, like a cat's in the moonlight. And so green, like wine bottles or sea glass or black magic. They were softened with empathy, though, and her silent pleading echoed from them like a distant drumbeat.
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