It was only death on Friday. He told me it was new as of Friday morning, when I was bandaging his bleeding hands. He's a nailbiter, you know? Not unlike the hand we found. And when I mentioned the fire in the swamp he immediately said he had nothing to do with it.

Death was still on his arm today, but there were new words now. Fear, safety, comfort...maybe a few others. It was hard to tell when everything with Boothill happened. [...] It feels a little coincidental is all. But it's why I couldn't ask in the end.

[because she'd been more sure before, and then suddenly Less Sure.]