Qeya River Sticks and stones

She had, obviously, and stood tall and imposing as on their first meeting.  How opposite their situations were right now.

She frowned slightly when Thuringwethil offered the hunt, ears tilting involuntarily back.  She knew on some level that to push her shoulder could cause damage even worse than what she'd earned so far, but she didn't wish the dark wolf to depart.  There was an ache that had gotten worse as time went on, and she recognized it grudgingly as loneliness.  Wayward, she had none to protect her back and nothing to protect in return.  It was ideal for a time, but grew old quickly.

Sap, she chided herself internally, knowing despite that she couldn't accompany on a hunt.  "I was hunting in the mountains and took a fall recently," she admitted ruefully, indicating the shoulder she stood on gingerly.  "I don't think I'm too hard to outrun currently."

It explained her sorry state somewhat, and while a useful Roz might have approached to perhaps sign on to this woman's crew, she knew her worth.  And right now it was at a bit of a low point, sadly enough.  She couldn't think of a single argument to say otherwise, so held her thoughts in that regard.  Better to wait until she got her sea legs again, so to speak.