Cinnamon

Cinnamon reached into the deep leather bag she carried slung over her left shoulder, keeping her right free to carry the bow at the ready. Draped across her lower right waist, the bag contained all she had been able to snatch up in her haste to escape the villagers' wrath. The water bottle was depleting too quickly, and she knew she would have to replenish its supply soon. Thirst would be her biggest enemy now that she was on her own in the wilds of Westing.