Little had an aversion to packs, as a general rule, unless she was stealing from one. But after she'd fled across the Wilds like a bat out of hell, she realized that she needed one; badly. Her injuries were nasty, most notably her missing appendage, though fortune spared her legs. She peered sadly at the mess that was her rump, burning as if she had sat on coals. The last few shreds of her magnificently feathery tail twitched feebly, and she yelped at the sudden pain that accompanied the movement. 

She howled then, loud and long and streaked with pain. She wasn't sure what had gone so horribly wrong; perhaps it was the freaky intelligence of the pup of the annoying proximity of the father, but she could only hope that her next encounter went more smoothly.