You know what happened to her. What happens to sisters when they help men. Even those who say... they take wife... they so sick, help them, help them.

( Sing-song, her voice now, nearing a shriek when she references help. She might yet scream again — seems undecided, rattling her hand to try for escape.

It does not yield yet. She can make it so. )

You let me go now, or I spill your soft belly, and I eat your gut. I make my small waters out of you. You hear me?

( Here are her teeth still sharp, here is her promise snarled when she dips in as close to Caitlyn's ear as her grip allows her. )

She died a used fool, and you can die one too. So you share more than face.