Kintla Flatlands Isn't there a Superman to sweep me off my feet?

Crete's brow furrowed and her answered with a silent, No. "I didn't think so," Pied answered, then "listened" to his addendum before laughing almost ruefully and saying, "I guess I can rest it... after I get back home. It's that trip that's going to be a pain, literally." She sighed softly, then quickly added, "Don't worry, it's not your fault," just in case Crete caught the sound and felt like he'd failed her.

It was her own fault; making this trip had been a mistake today. Now she needed to get home. The trip would be difficult but not impossible. The worst part was that Pied knew she should head home directly. The sooner she got back, the sooner she could take weight off her paw and down a few more of Dublin's painkillers. She would've loved to linger here and chat with Crete—well, at him, more like it—but it seemed this encounter would be cut short.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could hang around and talk. But I've got a bear of a trek home and I need to get it started. It was nice seeing you, Crete, and I'll look for you the next time I head out to the plateau, which hopefully won't be long from now. Sorry again for the bad news..." she added, exchanging a look with her mute uncle before turning and beginning the slow process of hobbling home to the ridge.