Sleeping Dragon i could feel it from the start, couldn't stand to be apart

She has healing broken ribs, and a long gashes healing in her left hind leg. About 2.5 weeks ago, with some treatment the day of but not much since.

She did not move as he came towards her, quick like lightning on his feet— she could not have escaped had she wanted to. Magpie watched him warily, saying nothing as he tittered on in an odd cadence. Had she the energy, the Corvidae might have found it unsettling. He seemed genuine enough now that they were speaking, and even if he meant ill, she couldn't see herself being much worse off than she was now. Even death would be welcome; a dark thought that seemed natural now, but would have horrified her a month ago.

"It wanted my rabbit," she explained. "It seemed content with that."

He seemed more interested in the injuries themselves than their reason for existing, however, and she merely shrugged in response. He could do as he willed, for she cared little for her life at present. Magpie felt herself unworthy of Thuringwethil's trust, and thought this lapse would close her from it, forever; if she could not earn it again, she couldn't hope to lead her own wolves in the future. The Corvidae could only see a bleakness in the days ahead, and she doubted that the healing of her physical wounds would be a balm to it. If she couldn't have her dreams, she wanted nothing at all. If he wanted her death, she would not fight it— and if he wanted her to heal, she would welcome it just as easily.