Deepwood Weald I'll unwrap my fingers, free my foot and run away

the woman bound into the pit with grace the svartell had been entirely unable to garner in her own unfortunate descent. it was entirely unfair, thought some distant part of her mind, that the woman was gifted a pelt so vivid and stunning. her own speckles hardly compared to the way the girl wore the sun like a mantle. pushing the thought to the rear of her mind as the stranger - Ceara - nosed her underbelly, she rose to three feet, keeping the forelimb tucked neatly to her chest. 

"I'll be quick," she promised, tail wafting behind her once as she prepared for, well, whatever she'd have to do.