Sequoia Coast Let's Burn All The Bridges

the thing rolled over, revealing its belly to her. this she understood as a sign of submission, a white flag. she also felt it was consent. deirdre loomed over the little thing, a giant in comparison that towered over the weasel. she sniffed, and her nose felt the heat that generated toward the injured body part. once she noted that, the injury was quite easy to detect; the hind leg was clearly hanging at so awkward an angle in so rigid a way that she knew it was broken.

she grit her teeth. i believe i can fix this. it needs time; it will hurt. i can attempt to splint it, the leg was quite different than a wing, but on him, it would not be too terribly different from the small birds she dealt with. i can take you to my herbal den; would you mind rolling over? i can carry you there, for she knew he could not walk.