Marian frowns deeply at the woman. "I know you," she tells her. "I knew you." She reaches out to touch the woman's face, as though feeling would bring back knowledge. "I don't know your name."
She turns slightly to look over her shoulder, to see if someone is following them. No one. Silence.
Marian turns back around, and rubs a hand across her belly. "It's in god's hands now," she says. It seems, though, that her wounds are reopening, and slowly bright patches of blood stain the dress.