Blackfeather Woods broken shards

Wildfire slept a lot these days. She was so drained and, besides, there wasn't much else she could do while trapped in this cave. Her leg wasn't bothering her anymore—it had been nearly six weeks since "I" had sprained it—but now it was simply a lack of energy that kept her here. She felt apathetic about her fate, especially now that she'd more or less convinced herself that so much time had passed, her family had surely given up on her and moved on with their lives.

She drowsed where she sprawled on the cool floor, curled against the late September chill. One red ear flicked at the sound of footfalls coming closer. During her first few weeks as a captive, she had been on high alert whenever anyone approached. Now, Wildfire listlessly rolled her head, chin pivoting atop her forelegs, without bothering to lift it. Her eyes did raise to see Cicero's familiar face, before Wildfire faced the wall again.