The Tangle when the rain comes down, all the worms come up to breathe

Indie was very much pleased when the cloaked shewolf indeed stepped closer to inspect the tragic injury; and when Thuringwethil confirmed what Indie postulated [that her missing toenail was indeed a fatal and disfiguring loss], Indie was delighted! She had finally caught a glimpse of that thing she so desired from the woman from the north — a sense of humor; interest; reciprocity; depth! Indie’s eyes flashed from the thrill of it; but the rush suddenly made her feel unsteady, as if her ballast had been moved askew. 

“What a shame,” Indie responded forlornly, a practiced [yet clearly feigned] sense of longing tinging the color of her voice. “I was rather fond of my leg.” Indie lifted her paw one more time for a final mock inspection, but ultimately the sullen limb resumed its place hovering inches above the broken, sandy earth. Her molten gaze danced back to her imposing cohort and a small smile spread across her lips... and the foot was promptly forgotten. Now, all Indie wished to know was Thur's raison d'être on that fine, fine day.  “What — or whom — do you seek this day?”  Indie asked about Thuringwethil’s purpose even though she was afraid it [whatever task it might be] would tear asunder their chance meeting. However, Indie was one who preferred to face such anxieties head on.