Taran doesn't speak again as I take her to the washroom, strip my own clothes off and then take her into the shower. She stands silently while I wash first her, then myself. Cleansing us of dirt and blood. I run my fingers through her hair, untangling the waves and leaving the strands to cling wetly to her body. I'm careful to keep the water away from her bandage as much as I can, tipping her head back so the water streams away from it. I kneel at her feet, washing all the way up each leg, paying attention to each scrape. I keep her in there for several minutes longer than necessary, warming her with the hot water she enjoys so much. I'd noticed the tremors wracking her small body when we were in the jeep, driving back to the city. Her teeth were chattering, despite the warm desert evening and my heavy military jacket.