The Wall -- echoes of thundering hooves

Her toothpick legs continue to fumble underneath her crumpled frame.  She finally caught her footing as a large gray man came into view and she groaned internally.  Mirabelle was a lady of class and charm as well as generally sure-footed, so this slip up was not the first impression she desired to imprint upon anyone.

Yes, thank you.  She lifts her legs up individually, surveying them for damages.  Most of her injuries appeared to be scrapes and although they burned with some intensity now with proper care they would tidy up well — that is if she as a lone wolf could prevent them from infection.  Her ears slick back against her skull and her whiskers flicker, curled tail unfurling.

Am I disturbing you?