May walks for several days. 

It is less cold here.

There are homeless shelters she can stay at sometimes. 

But they have mirrors.  She avoids them as best she can, but reflections are everywhere.

She was shoving the second handful of shards down her throat when she noticed that it wasn’t tearing her up inside. 

A fluid leaks from her lips. Green. It drips on the floor, and it deforms what it touches. Digesting.

She thinks on this as she shoved the rest of the mirror down her throat. That’s better. She is whole. Or at least less lacking.

She needs to run. They’ll find her here with a shattered mirror and there will be a story. 

With focus, May finds she can make the fluid leak from her hands. Throwing it at the wall digests it, weakening it enough that she can claw her way out, then climb down the building.

She runs.

———

Robbing stores is easier now. Doors and walls can stop her. She gets in through a side wall late at night, and takes what she needs.

May packs her hand in snow. 

This is not the first time she remembers missing a hand. The memories of that pain, and that debilitation are common in her memories. She looks down at her stump.

This will make hunting her progenitor harder. She takes a shotgun. She takes some clothes to replace her old and burned clothes. 

The shotgun be hard to use without her other hand. 

---

She burns her hand. Didn't have enough snow to keep it. This should preserve it some. If she is lucky, she can 

--- 

She feels the tingling after a few days on. She is hiding in an alley next to a grocery. Waiting for dark so she can destroy enough of the vent and wall to get food for the next week.

She focuses. The stump of her arm changes. Then it grows, small tendrils growing and expanding. After a minute, she has a hand again.

May grins.... This... This has potential.