Lying under a bush, only slightly conscious, and occasionally coughing like there's still water in his lungs, is this guy. He doesn't look in a good way, clothes burned away almost entirely (but not a single burn on his skin) reveal skin stretched too-thin over his bones, and bruises and marks from having been recently beaten.

There's a rustling sound from the trees, as someone not-so-carefully walks over layers of fallen leaves, heading towards the shore.

She catches sight of the man under the bush as she steps out into the dim sunlight, prompting her to pause, briefly, and scan around, then she swiftly makes her way in his direction.

He barely stirs at the sound, but when he manages to process someone approaching him, he flinches violently, tries to pull himself further under the bush, and curl into a protective ball. He is not massively successful at anything other than the flinching, too exhausted and pained to manage the others.

A weak flame flickers over his damp skin, dying before it manages to catch on anything. Up close, it is possible to see that he is steaming gently. Someone else with an innate element would almost certainly be able to sense the flames flickering under his skin, weak as they seem right now.

She pauses, responding mostly invisibly except for the impression of – recoiling. A moment passes, and she continues towards him.

"Hello?" she asks, voice soft.

His eyes flicker open, and dart towards her, landing around her knees. He attempts to push himself up, manages to make it to hands and knees before apparently realising his state of undress and freezing again. He looks sideways at her.

He tries to say something, flinching slightly as he does so, the words sticking in his throat, almost like he's parched, or hasn't really used his voice in a while.

"Do you need water? I've – one moment."

She reaches into her satchel and fetches a canteen, offering it to him.

He looks at the canteen like it might burn him, and shifts, slightly awkwardly so that he's sat, curled in on himself, shaking his head. He coughs.

"M'good," he manages, voice still hoarse. "I-" He looks around, slightly wildly, and his eyes fix on the burning church (just visible through the trees), pupils blown wide, and he recoils.

She follows his gaze – checks there's nothing immediately threatening – then turns back to him.

"Are you sure?" she asks, trying to look sincere.

He nods quickly, takes a deep breath. It doesn't seem to do much to steady him, but he doesn't start coughing again. Another flame tries to flicker over his skin, clearly trying to clear any residual dampness from him.

He looks at the girl again, a bit clearer minded this time, looking to see how much of a threat she's going to be.

She flinches back from the flame, noticeably but relatively unviolently.

There's not much to be seen about her, physically. She's average height, not of a particularly stocky built – looks like she might hike a lot, but manages to keep a grace about herself. What's more interesting, if he can see it, is in her body language: she's wary, she's prepared to jump back from perceived danger as she just did, and she thinks he could be a threat. She doesn't seem very inclined to attack him, though, or at least not to be the one to start anything.

She puts the water away.

"Do you need some help?" she asks. "Getting away from – that?" She gestures over towards the burning church.

He seems to flinch back at her flinch.

His eyes narrow a little at her knees. (He needs all the help he can get.) But...

"Price?" he asks quietly.

Pause.

"Would you believe it was the charity of a stranger?"

"No-one does that. Not even-" He makes an aborted gesture at the church.

"Then I suppose you'll figure another motivation."

She takes her bag off and kneels down, moving to take something out of it.

He flinches a little when she kneels down, and watches her cautiously. (This makes almost no sense.)

Out of her bag comes a small blanket, or perhaps a towel, which she offers to him. Presumably it is so he can cover himself.

That he will take. The price is worth being at least somewhat covered up.

"Th-Thank you," he says as he awkwardly wraps it around his waist.

She straightens up, smoothly, and looks down at him, face still impassive. "Come," she says. "It wouldn't do to be found here."

He gets, somewhat unsteadily, to his feet, a little hurried. He doesn't say anything, but is watching her (shoulders) silently, waiting for a cue on direction.

She heads back towards the forest, apparently not watching to ensure he follows, and picks out a path.

He is following, leaving a reasonable distance between the two of them. (He doesn't have anywhere else to go, and no idea where to even start.)

Taylor, not being privy to the internals of his head, can't comment on this.

She checks after a couple of minutes if he might be up for smalltalk, or if she should leave him for a while.

He's definitely not used to people speaking to him rather than at him. He looks confused, but will attempt to respond to any small talk. (Which he is apparently approximately useless at.)

She makes an effort to talk to him anyway, seeming untroubled by any awkward pauses. The talking is definitely intended as a conversation. As this goes on, she picks her way through the trees. She seems to know the area – not well, but enough it's clear she's been in these woods a few times before.

A short while later, during a lull in the conversation she decides to introduce herself: "I'm Taylor."

There are a fair few awkward pauses! And he's clearly trying not to say anything that could be considered 'wrong'.

He blinks at her. "Uh, I- um, Nova? Miss? If you- like?"

"Nova," she repeats, not quite weighing the name on her tongue. She then nods, returning to the previous smalltalk.

He twists his fingers together and goes back to his somewhat-stilted, not always very good small-talk responses.

She seems to find that sufficient.

If Nova knows the local area, he might be able to tell that she's heading in the direction of a nearby town.

He is not in fact able to tell this! He knows very little about the local area, having barely been taken off the island.

The town isn't too large, and arranged in a rough circle around a main square, with straight streets leading from the outskirts into the square, those linked together by more meandering streets and alleyways.

The main square has a small church in it, around which is arranged a variety of market stalls.

Taylor looks over to consider him, as they approach.

"Do you think this is far enough?" she asks.

"...Ma'am?" he asks in complete confusion. (He has no idea what he was expecting.)

"Enough of a headstart," she clarifies.