How she'd even managed to make her way home was nothing short of miraculous. Through the night and the next day she'd pushed herself, knowing that if she stopped for longer than just to catch her breath, she wasn't going to make it. Lyanna's heart pounded from the loss of so much blood. Weaker with every step, it felt like every mile that passed made it more difficult to breathe, and by the time she'd crossed the borders of Shallow's Edge, her sides heaved laboriously. Dried blood was crusted on her face and matted in large chunks in her tawny fur - missing in places that were replaced with wounds of all shapes and sizes. Defeated and, in all honesty, lucky to be alive, she limped almost lifelessly through the brush before her den eventually appeared off in the distance, leaving a trail of blood behind her that surely stretched all the way to Kingsfall.
The sun was beginning to set. Perhaps it would have been for the best to seek out one of her pack mates for help, but by the time her paws met the verdant grass just outside the den's mouth, she simply collapsed. Her entire body throbbed as she struggled to find air to breathe. What would Askan think of her now, showing back up from a simple scouting trip half dead? Not only that, but she was sure her encounter with the boy from their rival pack was going to stir up more trouble than she wanted to be responsible for. She hadn't intended for things to get as violent as they had, but she hadn't had a choice in the matter. She could only defend herself as best she could, and at the time, her best meant escaping as fast as she could. Again, she was lucky to have found an opportunity by the time the vicious fight was said and done.
And so she laid, her head nestled between her forearms that were no longer creamy but blood-stained. Laboring to breathe, managing only to suck in shallow breaths and wheeze them back out, a long, slow whine escaped her. If no one found her tonight, she didn't know if she'd live to see the sun rise.