Freya's weight sinks into Pen, and it's all she can do in her condition to process those words. Or try to, anyway. That's a lot for being in the twilight of consciousness.

A few moments of breathing pass before any of that makes sense. Her brand. Freya's hand fumbles up to her shoulder, but her fingers only find the pair of scars on her shoulder. Duh--as if she'd be able to see it in the dark, let alone feel it.

(But it had changed. White, arrowless and faded at the edges. The diamond of the eye faintly etched in the center.)

They'd been camping. Freya had told her to run. But... What happened? Where was the rest of it?

Freya hurt, in that deep bone ache sort of way, especially her chest. Maybe Pen really did beat it. A faint smile twitches onto her face once her panic about the brand recedes.

"Th's my girl."