Bitterroot Valley This used to be the future

And thus, this chick makes her entrance! Whoever the heck she is. :P Now I just gotta make her an av. 

It was like the lights suddenly clicked back on. She froze, mid-stride, in the middle of... Somewhere? Her hackles raised, head turning to survey where she had suddenly become aware of her own presence. It was, to say the least, mildly perplexing. Though she couldn't put a paw on the exact time aside from "midday" but she was sure that at least a few hours were lost, if not more, and that she wasn't meant to be here. Or was she? It wasn't familiar. Maybe it should have been? She could see that she'd been walking for some time, and not carefully -- her trail was easily visible behind her in the thin layer of snow.

Looking inwards, all she could see was a void and a few blurry flashes, hints of memories that were buried. Buried. Had she been buried? A rock slide? Something earthen seemed right, but she couldn't pin down the moment. It fled her, leaving her alone in the middle of some big grassland that she was sure wasn't her home. But that was ok. For some reason she was sure that not being home was the right thing, though she could have been half way around the globe and not known it, the way things were now.

With the return of her conscious mind had come a not-too-insignificant twinge of panic. She drew in a breath to attempt to quell it, stopping short as her ribs caused a spike of pain to surge through her, pushing away the now-fading adrenaline to remind her of something: it wasn't just her ribs aching, everything did. The reason her eyes didn't want to focus was because her head was throbbing, her mouth dry, and her right shoulder shuddered like it didn't entirely want to bear the weight. She drew in a breath, smaller than the last, drawing in the familiar coppery scent of blood. Hers, it smelled like. Mostly? Eh. Seemed like entirely.

Looking back at her tracks and the parts of her pelt that she could, despite her currently limited range of movement, it didn't seem like she was bleeding any more at least.  Everything seemed attached and reasonably functional.  To those that might stumble upon her, she looked far worse than she could see.  The back of her head was smeared with now-dry blood, running into the fur on her neck which stood up in random, crusty ruddy spikes.  She looked like she'd rolled around in the dirt, with a few smears of mud up against a few clean patches that seemed like they were likely more accidental than on purpose. A few other places along her hide had a bit of a pinkish tinge to them but it wasn't clear whether they hid small cuts beneath or were smears from when the major one on her head was fresh.

After a minute paused, neither seeing nor smelling anything that could answer her questions, she willed herself forward. The only sure thing was that she needed to find some non-frozen water and figure out what questions she could answer.  The rest was a jumbled mess.