Sheepeater Cliff The dark of summer

The shock of the blow bothered her more than her smarting nose, though neither felt nearly as bad as her embarrassment. An unpleasant heat threaded down her back and her pale eyes fell to the ground, watching as drops of deep red blood splattered at her feet. Gently, she lapped her tongue over her busted nose, trying not to wince as it swiped over bruised, torn flesh. She could barely stand to lick it more than two or three times, though at least it seemed to stem the flow.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at Teklar out of the corner of her eye. Her throat felt tight and she shook her head in response to his question. She then steadied herself with a breath and managed a weak smile. "I, ah, misjudged the necessary velocity for that leap," she quipped lamely, her tail falling limp against the backs of her legs. She felt a hot wave of fresh embarrassment roll over her, not just because of her silly stumble but also her overly abashed reaction.

Forcing herself to lift her head, she swiveled to face Teklar, hyper-aware of her swollen, bleeding, throbbing nose. "How bad does it look?" she asked. Trying to make light of the whole thing even though she couldn't have felt less like laughing, she added, "Will I ever be able to smell again?"