Bearclaw Valley a thing can be true and still be desperate folly

forward-dating a wee bit with permission. keeping it a bit vague since last thread is not concluded

Her run-in with the wild woman in the meadow had left her even more broken than before, if that were possible. Once Maegi had managed to slip from her slimy grasp, she dragged herself across the meadow, heading toward a mountain, smaller than the ones she'd just left. Though wary, now, of higher altitudes, it reminded her of the Bypass; she saw an entrance ahead to what appeared to be a valley, and trudged on.

Perhaps there was safety to be found, here. Or at least something to eat and drink. She'd been taking mouthfuls of snow for fluids, but she was famished, and it was beginning to take a toll on her body--she trembled like a leaf. And she needed herbs, desperately. The gash on her cheek had more or less stopped bleeding, though it split open once more if she moved her mouth even slightly more than what was necessary, but she knew it needed to be properly dressed, like she'd done, somewhat, for Cicero.

To her dismay, though, she caught the stench of border markings at the entrance, and her civility warred with her hunger, her exhaustion. Dare she cross into another pack's territory? She knew what could happen when one member of a pack offended another; Miraak's body lay dead and buried because of such transgressions. At the same time. . .

She laid on the ground just a few steps away from the border, too weak to decide, too weak to howl, too weak to do anything but wait and see if anyone would even show up and find her.