It was a woman, but she hardly looked human. Her face was pale and skeletal, with long, thin scars running from her eyes down her cheeks as if she had been clawing at her face with sharp fingernails. Her eyes were bloodshot and wild, staring vacantly at Ash through the bars that separated them. The woman’s hair was tangled and long, and oddly shaped chunks of it were missing. The woman across from Ash gripped the bars so tightly that the cracked knuckles of her gnarled fingers turned white, and a mad ferocity gleamed in her eyes. Her chest heaved up and down, the ragged clothes she wore moving with it.