Rolf was across the lawn, facing an attractive elm tree, his back to the others. Clean, in newer clothes and inexplicably rejuvenated, Rolf looked almost as if he had never been a prisoner. He had also completely forgotten his promise to himself to take better care of his natural body. 

When Bergoda approached, he suddenly dropped a jagged rock he had been holding and faced her, his body half concealing a series of lines and shapes he had been carving in the tree. 

“Aye, Rolf,” where Bergoda had an urban accent, Rolf’s speech was more telling of the countryside. “I thought I heard you introduce yourself as an eel, but now that the prison’s been scrubbed off, I see that y’[i]are[/i] a lady after all.”