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Emerwyn avoided the village quite a bit since her - encounter - with the lion-man. It was utterly rediculous. She had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Absolutely nothing.
Why did everything have to be so hard? She had to go every day worrying which islander was going to attack her next, and now, now she had almost no one to turn to.
As self-sufficient as she was determined to become, it was true that she had not the strength to defend herself from would-be predators.
She half-stumbled through the jungle today. Sleep was coming hard again, and she had yet to work off this dreadful cough.

Joli may not have seen her, but the tired deer's senses picked up the carnivore. She lingered behind some brush, unsure who or what it was, or what to do. She wasn't going to run. Maybe it hadn't seen her yet; maybe it wasn't hostile. Either way, she was too tired to make any concious desicions. Her brown eyes fell on a giant lizard, stalking some smaller, unseen prey. At least it wasn't her.

Emerwyn gasped sharply as the clawed hand took out the little creature. She didn't know what the larger one had said, but the voice was familiar. A little cloud began to clear, and Emerwyn realized it was Joliette. How long it had been, she did not know, but her meetings were always sporadic, and time tended to twist itself.

She stepped out of hiding, tentatively. The way Joli had spoken left her unnerved.

A sigh sounded inside Emerwyn's head when Joli spoke in a comprehensable tongue.
"Joli, my friend. It is good to see you again."
She kept her eyes on Joli, determined not to look at the mangaled animal at her feet.

Both of them had indeed changed since they'd last seen each other. Joli had seen more of it, that was evident, and hers was much more drastic. Just how many carnivores was Moreau setting on this Island?
Emerwyn sat down gingerly, to be eye-level with Joli.
"No. Much has happened."

Emerwyn smiled in soft-bittersweetness at this statement. But, Joli did have a point. Her physical change seemed to compliment her in a disturbing way. It was not something she would find beautiful. It was, after all, a physical symbol of her suffering.
"I have been - as well as can be expected." It was a phrase she'd grown accustomed to. She wasn't ever at all well, and she wasn't going to lie. "A little worse for wear, I'm afraid, but hopefully that will clear up before too long."
Indeed, her voice was sore and strained, and her elegant face was worn and sunken in.

A silent nod of agreement was all Emerwyn gave. She was somehow not quite up for much conversation.
She sighed now audibly. She was ashamed to admit that she had been so sick. This was one thing that was her fault. "Yes. But, as I said, I am sure it's only passing. Animals grow ill, too." She chose to forget just how much she was fooling herself. But the help she needed came from a source she did not trust.