Note: This story is a result of the prompt 'bitter'.
She stands like a savage. Her hair is unwashed, greasy, hanging down past her thin shoulders. Mixed with figs and leaves, it doesn't even look blonde anymore. Her legs are spread apart in a protective, defensive stance and he can't tell whether they are splattered with dirt or with bruises. Blue eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight of him, he can't imagine the things she might do if it were just the two of them. Luckily for him, they are not alone.
She stands, wild looking and unkempt. Almost foreign. He wonders if she still speaks english at all, looking like that. With a shrill cry, she leaps forward, all arms and legs and filth. Kate catches her, but it's with the help of Sawyer and Jack that the girl is restrained at all. She looks at Desmond and his clean face, clean clothes, and grunts, spitting on the golden sand between her bare feet and his shoes.
"Claire," he tries.
"Leave," she whispers before launching back into the jungle, her blonde hair snapping wildly behind her.