June 15, 2016, 11:37 AM
Not sure what I can assume, so doing my best to keep it vague and tagging for visibility.
Her wounds were largely mended, though Magpie was not unscathed by the famine nor its effect on her painful healing. She would always have the mark left upon her flank by the bear, and the scar would slow her. There would always be occasions where the pain returned; a rare muscle movement, or the change in air pressure before storms roll in. The mountain was torturous, now— she could not climb as nimbly as before, and her muscles rebelled against the effort. Despite the ministrations of @Gluskap, even in the fog provided of his herbal sachets, the Corvidae was tormented— though one though triumphed over all others.
She was not being authentic to her convictions, or values, or heart— and attempting to force it, even if only for survival, was destroying her from the inside out.
As the remnant side effects of the latest sachet began to wear off, Magpie slipped from the borders of Drageda. She followed the river that had been the barrier between them and the wolves the Commander had driven off, trailing along its winding banks. She made a note to make amends with @Wildfire someday, if she could, if she were alive to do so; but not today, for she couldn't bear to say goodbye, not with things as they were. It seemed senseless to inform @Thuringwethil, for the dark woman knew that Magpie's time there was only temporary; their relationship was complicated, and if the Heda intended to hunt her down and kill her, well, Magpie believed death was on her heels as it were.
She was thin, weakened by the famine, and leaving the safety of Drageda was inviting death. Magpie knew this, and yet she doggedly followed the waters flowing south until she was out of the Wilds.