Hoshor Plains hold my hand

Set directly after this thread.

Diane spent several more days there; dying slowly until something told her to get up...

A drizzle started as the girl, caked in grime and dried blood, began a painfully slow limp across the plains. She had been able to drink but her stomach rumbled in horrible protest of its hunger. The last thing she had eaten was a beaver left to her by Vincent, but that had been days prior, and she was beginning to feel her physical weakness more than her mental one. Especially now since her broken leg prevented her from hunting.

Her other wounds weren't as serious. The claws marks on her chest and shoulder were healing fine, and though the fang marks behind the blades of her shoulder had taken longer to stop bleeding, they had crusted over eventually too. Everything was bruised, and it hurt to move any muscle, but she knew she couldn't stay in that hole anymore. Not if that was where she wanted to die.

Diane lifted her face to the soft rain, breathing in water and cold air in a move that was supposed to be refreshing, but only wound her up in a fit of unflattering coughs.