Redhawk Caldera So you can say letting go is easy

When Finley rounded to face her and bar the feeble attempt she made to chicken out of her approach, the small black female simply settled her dejected gaze on the small grey female’s forepaws as she resigned herself to whatever repercussion would face her. She didn’t see the exaggerated roll of Fin’s eyes, nor immediately sense that the Blackthorn bore no ill will towards her. It was a realization that was slow to form as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and fumbled through the lethargic fog that surrounded her thoughts. The body language tipped her off, however, and with a slinking sort of clumsiness, Sassafras lowered herself back to the snow and splayed her ears with a slow, but obvious thump of her tail.

She now knew where she was and with whom she was speaking, but she felt she was on unfamiliar terrain in the presence of a long-time Calderan she’d never had much contact with. It didn’t help that this was the mother of the child she had searched the Wilds for, and it didn’t help that she’d been completely unsuccessful in all the time she’d been gone.
 
“Some ass said Peregrine could drop dead when I asked if he’d seen Lucy,” she said a little venomously, finishing her sentence just in time to give a single retch-like cough when her throat went suddenly dry. Having the wherewithal to do so, she licked the side of one of her paws and the snow beneath to stimulate more saliva so she could continue her explanation. It was a very brief calm and sense of collection that didn’t necessarily make her any more coherent in the end, but she would at least be heard. “I made some bad decisions,” she ultimately confessed without laying everything out on the table. “It was stupid.” Exhaustion, hunger, and emotional turmoil had turned to obsession, starvation, and self-loathing.