Ankyra Sound I’ve fallen down from grace

Every so often, when her keeper was gone, Rosalyn would go for walks. Short, painfully slow walks, but ones that took her along a small stretch of coast. She knew languishing away wouldn't get her well near as fast, tempting as it was, and despite the pain that accompanied the fresh air was worth it. Besides, she'd prided herself on self sufficiency, and the tidbits she sometimes was able to scavange made her feel a little better about the state of her life at the moment.

She would never have survived this alone. Saltwinter, Vlad, the healer from Donnelaith - without them, she'd be fertilizing trees over on the rise. So, despite her spirits, she knew she owed a debt. Whether she paid? That depended.

She was happy, for the moment, for a bit of peace. Vlad had been irritable of late and she hadn't been much better. The fever had taken what little weight she had gained since joining and then some, leaving her looking as awkwardly bony as some of her less fetching packmates. To add to that, her fur was a mess compared to it's usual state - she couldn't turn her head well, and the matted wounds only made matters worse. Her skin crawled, and sea water baths only did so much.

It could be worse. She could be dead. And it was this thought that had her humming this afternoon as she threaded her way across the sand, stopping every now and then to poke at a promising specimen lying on the sand.