[She's about to say throw 'em at me of the driftwood when Herian asks the question. She can't help an immediate flash of Granitefell, a fuzzy non-memory these days accompanied by the stomach drop of driving over a hill too fast. It's more than she wants to get into in detail, but she also isn't going to lie, so she says,]

I've had some close calls, since you were last here. I wouldn't mind telling you sometime, if you wanted to know, but I'd rather not right now. But I'm okay. [A pause and she exhales.] I'm not even dying of the chronic illness anymore, so arguably in better health than when we first met. It's just, you know. It's a war. [A little gesture at the basket.] Thus the training.