Morningside Cuesta Coffee with my bacon, please

Shock and adrenaline proved a fairly good band-aid, numbing the pain as she slowly slipped out of a state where much seemed surreal. Why the hell was there a cliff at the end of a perfectly good meadow? In her previous state of euphoria, it had seemed like the plain stretched on much further than it had. She squinted at the male, for a moment, he seemed new and strange and slightly blurred. Had she been a healer, with any knowledge of disease and illness and herbs, she would have recognised it as a sign of a concussion, and the burning in her forelimb as being dislocated. 

The male's words seemed disjointed, she watched him as he approached and begun poking her spine in silence, trying to gather her wits. She winced, tensing the first time his prodding hit a bad bruise or cut, disguised under her fur, but when tensing unleashed a whole new wave of pain, she stopped and forced herself to relax. When he seemed to have finished, she spoke. "There was a cliff- but ther wasn't supposed to be." she muttered, as if chastising the rock formation. She peered at her left shoulder, odd looking and as the shock faded, more painful by the moment. she made to move it, but to her great and muddled confusion, her limb didn't follow orders. "It's not working." she groaned/stated, still not confident this wasn't a bad dream.