Barrow Fields these are the last blues we're ever gonna have.

Once snow and dirt and blood are flung from her, she feels much more stable on all four legs. They feel a little wobble but she’s able to fight against the urge to shy away and lick her wounds. The embarrassment hasn’t quite set in yet. But as she looks him, not even addressing her, she gawks in disbelief and tries to look ahead to figure out what he’s trying to find.

And then he growls at her? Her brows knit together and she steps forward, growling back. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” she snaps at him, teeth bared as she dares to take a step closer.