Exton

Morgan hits the water in a flat dive. She waves her arms frantically back and forth to remove the worst of the iron still clinging to her, Some of it, heavy with blood and other fluids, sinks immediately to the bottom of the lake; but some remains, floating on the surface of the water like a lethal oil slick. The pain is indescribable. Every gasp for air is more of a moan, the pain mindless and unrelenting. Morgan strips out of her dress and dives beneath the water, scrubbing vigorously, her only rational thought is to get the iron off as fast as possible.

When she was satisfied that the last of the powdered iron had been washed away, she swims, still underwater, out to the center of the lake before surfacing to assess the damage.

The cold water has helped minimally with the pain, but enough so that Morgan can get on the dock and stand. She holds out her arms, takes in the open bleeding sores, the broken fingers that wont bend and pulse in agony. She gasps and cries when she looks down at her breasts. The once perfect white globes are a mass of raw bleeding flesh with chunks missing and already oozing a thick putrid green fluid. The smell was already on her, the sweet rotting stink of infection already gone too far.

She stops crying and the planning takes over. At least none of the iron got in my eyes or mouth... she shudders at the thought.... Her eyes move up and she takes in Cassies boathouse. A good place to stay for now... and if they come here... I will kill whoever shows up, any of those tavern people. It is their fault and they shall pay for every injury and every insult... I will kill them all, any who come here first and then all the others... I want them all dead, every last one of them...