Porcupine Ridge authentic battle damage

Diane felt a sliver of relief by her Alpha's humor. But the emotion was so bare, it hardly registered with her at all. She swallowed the lump in her throat, frowning at him and he jested. "Don't you think they all say that?" she asked rhetorically, a child's pout set grimly across her muzzle. She chalked up his carelessness to the fact of his gender. Most males she had ever known were bullheaded (if only slightly) and she didn't expect him to worry about something as menial as a flesh wound. Infection could take down the most virile of wolves, and Diane felt justified in her worries, despite the embarrassment that accompanied it. 

She set her head on the ground, sighing as she forced herself to relax. For a while it seemed like she just might fall asleep, but then one gold eye rolled towards Taggarik. "I didn't want to fight," she admitted after a pregnant pause. "I-I've never done anything like that before... I don't even know why I did."