The Waterfall

Misting onto her forehead, the water was cool and refreshing. Under the rock outcrop over which the water flowed, the spray enveloped her. She doused herself from the falling stream, scrubbing hair and body to clean the dust and grime of travel. The herbal soap mixed with the scent of the mist. Seated on a warm rock, she shook her pale skin dry, and set to the arduous taming of her curls. Packing after dressing, her gray linen dress clung to her, damp and heavy. She may have blood on her hands, but she did not have to appear filthy.