As she dodged round a tree after Hansel she came face-to-face with an older girl. She stumbled back with a gasp but her momentum tripped her and she fell flat on her back. Ignoring the brief pain, she looked up and started to scramble up – only to see the other girl's face only a few inches from her own, holding a curl of brown hair between two fingers and nibbling the ends. Gretel fell back again, then got up.
"Who are you?"
"What?"
The girl's voice was light and high, and had a strange crispness.
"Who. Are. You?" Gretel repeated.
"Who… Are… You… You want to know my name."
"No shit." Gretel said.
"Why would I relieve myself here?"
"… Umm, I guess you wouldn't."
"No, I didn't think so. Is it customary to relieve yourself when you meet new people where you come from?"
"No, that's not… Forget it. Where are we?"
"I don't know."
"You what? Are you not from here either?"
"I'm not from here."
"Oh."
"I'm from over that hill." Zarachi pointed to where the hill rose, about a mile away.
"Oh, right. Okay… You still haven't told me your name."
"I am called Zarachi by those who know me."
"Uh, hi …Zarachi. I'm Gretel."
"Gretel. What an ugly name."
Gretel flinched. She hadn't trusted the girl at all, and now she didn't like her much either.
Zarachi turned, listening. Gretel started to speak, but the girl put her hand over Gretel's mouth. Gretel bit it lightly in retaliation and was shocked when she felt her teeth break the skin and coppery sour blood trickled into her mouth. She jumped back.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-"
"Quiet." Zarachi didn't even blink, but she glanced at Gretel, annoyed. Gretel watched as Zarachi brought her hand to her mouth and licked the blood off of her palm, sucking at the wound. When she took away her hand, she licked her lips, her tongue cleaning the blood from them.
This was when Hansel entered.
"Hey, Gretel, I found – who are you?" Suspicion clouded his eyes.
"Who… Are…"
"Her name is Zarachi, apparently." Gretel cut her off, still unnerved to the girl's reaction to pain – as in, none at all.
"Where's she from?"
"Over that hill."
Hansel looked the girl up and down, taking in the orange tank top, shredded fleece with missing sleeves and ripped cargo shorts and bare feet – and then the blood dripping off her fingertips.
"Hey! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He took the girl's hand gently and saw the bite marks. "Who did this to you?"
"Her." Zarachi shrugged and gestured at Gretel.
"I can ex-"
"What the hell, Gretel? What's gotten into you? You meet someone new and bite their hand that hard? What's wrong with you?"
"I swear, I didn't-" But he had turned to Zarachi.
"Here." He elongated a hole already in the bottom of his shirt and pulled until he had a strip of fabric. He wound it round her hand gently, the blood staining through the dirty white, and knotted it. Zarachi frowned.
"Why."
"Because you're hurt, silly!"
She looked confused, then lifted her eyebrows and shrugged.
"You should both come to my Mesak."
"Your what now?"
"You should both come to my Mesak." She pointed at the hill.
"Ummm, okay…" Gretel said. Hansel shot an angry glance at her.
"You want us to meet your family or something, right? Let's go!" He punched her shoulder lightly, jokingly, and started walking. It was only Gretel who saw the bruise form.
"Lead the way." She muttered.