Blackfeather Woods dragon's breath

The first few days, she kept to herself. Somehow, this is all still a trap He is in control of. He teases her with uncertainty and fake comfort. What pack wouldn’t attack her on sight? Kill her for being in their territory? Instead, they take care of her, feed her, and treat her wounds. There is little for them to do with most the damage He dealt to her body and still lives inside her mind, haunting every move, every word, every thought.
 
And to make matters worse, she’s barely been able to keep anything down. Whatever is brought to her in the glen is kept until she can try to eat alone, only to have to turn back up a little while later. She tries to play it off by not being used to… decent care that her body rejects anything good for her. This particular morning, Ocra wakes slowly, feeling a little more sluggish than usual. She struggles to sit upright, having to use a little more effort than before and grunts when her weight shifts. Her eyelids have started to scab over empty sockets, leaving her gaze permanently closed.
 
The nook she’s taken to sleeping in (when she can find it), feels a little different too. Nose touches the ground, sniffing around, and checking on a few wounds that still struggle to heal. By the time she explores through her own fur, touching her abdomen and licking herself gently, feeling the swelling of her nipples. Ocra freezes, slowly retracting her nose from the search. If she doesn’t face the problem, it doesn’t exist. Besides, she hadn’t known then (she’s kidding herself if she didn’t know he’d succeed) and only hoped for a miracle. Now, certain her luck has run out, she puts her nose back to her belly to feel over the rest of her teats, all of them slightly swollen.
 
She still has a little time before it is obvious and maybe she can find a way out of this but right now, she has to attend to another urge. Carefully, she picks herself out of the tree and trots a familiar path cautiously to relieve herself, turning slowly and making her way back.