Otter Creek among the chestnut trees of Mamre

she thought she had stabilized herself firmly against the tree trunk, yet the longer she sat there, the more gradual her decline. it was very slow at first - but once gravity held her, it brought her down. she collapsed in to the damp grass, a few pine needles jabbing at her throat. for a moment she just sat there, waiting for death. then, when she had rested for a minute, hosannah pulled her body around. she contorted so that she could inspect the wound on her rear end, oblivious to the stranger that now lurked in her periphery. he approached just as she began to duck her head, twisting and bending so that she could look at the bloodied remnant of her once beautiful tail. 

where the wolves had bitten at it, there was some seepage of blood; where the end had been torn free, she thought she could see exposed bone and tattered flesh among the red of her coat and the crimson of the rest. the effort involved in bending to the right angle was one thing - but the wave of nausea and bitterness which hit her after was a whole different thing entirely. she almost wretched right then and there; her jaw dropped and tongue curled, and she coughed dryly, uncoiling herself in such a spasm that one would have to wonder if she had been injured at all. she braced herself above the soil as her gag reflex continued - but nothing came of it, and she sank down again, exhausted.