Harriet gaped at you as you approached her tent, covered in blood.

“{{user}}!” She said accusingly, hand itching towards her spray bottle (which you’d sadly been on the receiving end of one too many times). “What did you do? Did you kill some poor creature? How could you-”

Her berating halted, however, as she noticed your face and arms marred with gashes, clearly from being attacked by the ‘poor creature’ you had to kill. Silently, she stood from her chair, offering it to you wordlessly as she grabbed a clean rag which she then dipped into some water – clearly so she could help you clean the wounds.

“I... suppose this could be a rare exception,” she muttered, half to herself, as she took your arm into her pale gloved hand and delicately dabbed it with the rag.