Hearthwood River had not been quiet, but she had. There was tension in the air – but the honeyed she-wolf could not bring herself to ask what it was about. Nothing seemed the same any longer, but Lekalta tried to focus solely on healing, for the moment. @Lachesis had taken good care of her – of course he had. But she didn’t want to stay in the infirmary forever. She couldn’t. She hated having to rely on him. To rely on anyone.
Her wounds had healed over for the most part. The infection was gone, but the scars would remain. Still a harsh pink, the fur around them was beginning to turn a pale silver – a color they too would fade to, she believed. Lekalta had never been one to dwell on appearances.. not really. Perhaps that stemmed from the fact that she had never had to worry about it before – her pelt had been flawless, her eyes bright. Now, littered with the scars that served as a reminder of her mother’s death, she had never felt more ragged or ugly.
She walked with a slight limp from her ankle – the wound still healing, and slowly. The harsh winter air didn’t help, though it was still mild for the time of the year. It would likely only get worse. She tried to maintain an air of elegance as she snuck away from the healing den, seeking out the river that was the namesake of their home. The waters swept past, and the tawny Baranski stared in to their depths, her brows furrowed in distant thought.
are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?