"I'm not a child," slips out of her, a little petulant. It's obvious that she doesn't look like much--she's starting to think maybe that's a good thing, if they don't realize what she can do if she has to--but there's something about being talked down to that still rankles a little. (Almost, in fact, like she's a teenager being a teenager.)

That same petulance, not to mention her lingering wariness about the guy (Byerly. By.), leaves her hesitant to introduce herself in turn. But for all she doesn't think she trusts him, she can't deny that he's given her plenty of useful information on this stupid, freezing walk. It might be helpful to have an ally when they get wherever they're going, even an ally kept at arm's length.

"Everyone's a representative of their family," she says instead. You're the sum of the people you know and all the things you learned from them, and all the ways your personality bent those lessons. Even if you don't like them, they're part of what makes you you. And then, after another moment or two considering, she adds, "My name's Beth."