Ashley durability

I lowered her down to a sitting position.  She’d been shot in the ribcage, along to the side, and one of her arms had been clipped.  Flesh was burned and raw, ribs in one spot exposed and blackened.
“Small graces,” she said.  “Bonesaw built me durable.”
“More durable than a human?”
“Reinforcements here and there,” she said.  She winced at the pain.  “She removed most of it because it wasn’t meant to last.”

Dying 15.5