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Mel instantly regretted complaining to Sokka about the lack of enemies, because it had been followed pretty quickly by someone in the farm having his hand sliced off.

She hadn't seen Jack since then - bastard must be avoiding her, and she wouldn't blame him - but she also hasn't properly spoken to Oliver. So while she hasn't got the full story, she's just in a really really bad mood. and when Mel's in a bad mood, things get trashed.

The thing in question is out in the field most people have been using for training, and is little more than a pillow tied to one of the trees dotted around the borders. or rather, it's remarkable less, now, as Mel's worked her way through the fabric in a cloud of feathers, and now her knuckles are beginning to bleed from the bark.

Someone might want to stop her before she knocks the whole tree down.

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Mel shrugs, rubbing her hands until she realises that just takes off more skin. "It'll heal.

"Different good, right?"

You're not about to have your hand off?

"Scars'll make punchin' easier later, right?" Sonia's pretty good at creative explanations for why injuring herself isn't actually a bad thing.

"Well, nobody's yelled nothin' at me yet. And folks talk t'me." She half-shrugs. "'s kinda weird, I guess. But okay. And there's a priest." That's important.

"I don't scar easily."

So that must've been quite the attack, that did that to her face. And the scar on her frequently exposed midriff that looks like a caesarian.

"You, uh - spoke to him recently?"

Sonia is definitely impressed. Although she has no idea what a caesarian is.

"Just met him a couple days ago, yeah."

Mel frowns.

"Might wanna look in onhim again. There's been- a thing."

Oh, hello, icy blade of dread in her belly. She was starting to wonder why you hadn't been around!

"What happened?" she asks, voice flat.

"Difference of opinion over some friend of someone's," Mel hazards. "haven't got the full story yet."

"...yeah, but what happened?" Underneath, Sonia is having trouble with the notion that something would happen to a priest. You don't attack clergy! You just don't!

Mel doesn't want to say this. It's obvious.

"Lost a hand."

Her jaw drops.

"WHAT?!" The shock is keeping her from immediately doing something stupid. "Who did it?! By the Holy Mother, that's- Who did it?!"

Mel doesn't answer straight away, but first her jaw sets.

"You care about why?"

There's a slight reduction in the rage.

"...it make a difference?" Honest question. Though she's not sure it would, in a difference of opinion.

"I don't know," Mel says bluntly, unapologetically, "because i don't know why.

"Apparently Jack Hollins"- she's not protecting him she wants that made clear - "keeps company Oliver don't approve of. All I know so far."

Damn. She has no idea who that is.

Well, so much for revenge. For now.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

Mel nods quietly. "Think so. I'm going to see about prosthetic. Also look for healers."

"Healers?"

"People who can help him," Mel says. "Powers and stuff."

"Y'all have folks like that here?" OK, that makes this place a lot more attractive.

That and the indoor plumbing.

"Don't know,"Mel admits. "Hope so. Worth a try, right?"

She sounds like she's known them before.

Oh.

"I guess..."

Shouldn't have got her hopes up.

Though, on the other hand, there do seem to be more "special" types here than usual. So maybe.

"But... he ain't, y'know..." Gulp. "He ain't gonna die?"