Moonspear written in the sand

Her shoulder smarted from the assault, though not so badly where it caused her to limp. That was a good sign, it meant it was not deep and so would not scar. Still, movement ached—and no doubt the cougar had given her some other bruises to worry about later. The pain now was relatively severe, more severe than any scrap she had gotten in with a wolf—but truth be told, she couldn't think of a time where any wolf had landed a significant blow on her other than when she had been a kid and that lone wolf had torn her ear. 

So, this hurt like nothing she had remembered. 

The pain was a nice distraction from the mental pain she had endured. In fact, this was just what she needed in order to let that pain go. Not only that, but Terance touted his memory skills, leading Hydra to believe that in mere minutes she would feel zero pain. At all. What a day. 

As he uncovered the plants, Hydra didn't really question him; after all, he too had swallowed some in withdrawing it. She and Terance had been best friends for as long as she could remember, it felt like—and so she scarfed down the medicine he had provided. With the cobwebs he had found staunching the bleeding, Hydra slid to her belly. Between her paws was the cougar skull; she and her sisters liked to keep the skulls of the foes they had killed, but for themselves. They made for the best chew toys and were also pretty cool looking. There was still some skin attached to it, and Hydra remarked: it's a bad day to be this cougar, before she began gnawing on it, her fang working at the attached skin. She bet the stuff was working its magic now—things seemed to be becoming comfortably fuzzy.