Bearclaw Valley once upon a midnight dreary

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Grayday's gentle lick across her brow caused the small albino to tense warily, not used to such close contact aside from what had recently happened. This was... different though. It was nice, caring, and it rang bells in the back of her mind that she didn't even know needed to be rung. Bells of a distant past. She slowly relaxed once more and willingly gave into the comfort, grateful for his kindness, their kindness. In response to his question, she softly hummed "mmhmm", a small nod to accompany the muffled sound.

Her poorly sighted eyes wandered down to the wound in question, trying to see how bad it was, but blurry vision aside, she still had no knowledge about such things. All she knew was that it felt bad, that it was a dull ache in her leg and occasional sharpened to a sting, even long after the actual attack. Looking back on it, she didn't think she'd ever been hurt like this before. What did it all mean? And why would a wolf do this to her in the first place? She had done nothing wrong...

When Grayday asked whom should clean her wound, she shifted her gaze between the wolves, wanting to know who to expect the gesture from. It would be less alarming if she anticipated it.
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