Bearclaw Valley it was all right with me

like sif, indra was not sure how to proceed. she kept trying to remind herself it was not sif's fault, that she should not let her own bad day affect how she treated people -- especially not when they seemed as amicable as this she-wolf did. all the same it took a great amount of effort for indra to put forth a good face; cheer had left her being entirely, and she found faking it almost more exhausting than limping through the snow.

sif said in perfect english it was a pleasure to meet her - indra's thin smile briefly resurfaced. "you too." she rejoined, appreciating the practiced cadence that sif recited the words. indra surmised someone had taken great care to teach her that.

her troubled expression returned at the mention of being hurt, and she nodded once grimly. "i am." she was loathe to show and tell, but as she bent down to the river to drink, perhaps sif would have seen the injury of her own accord anyway. where indra's hind end should have seamlessly formed into a tail, nothing but a bloodied stump remained. her limbs were swollen from the infection above, and she moved with a gingerness that suggested the wound was far from resolved.