Wild Berry Meadow it was a pale white horse with a crooked smile

she put as much distance between herself and the man as possible, but now her three legs burn and the rear one, bent at an angle that has the girl slightly queasy, is aflame with hurt. matted blood streaks her pelt in a few places; but it is the result of superficial wounds. it is the hurt in her chest whenever she takes a breath that has the most impact on her ability to keep going; splintered ribs shifting slightly with every inhale. 

misery and self-pity are kept at bay by the whole-hearted belief that she can fix this. she eases onto her haunches in the relative cover of small group of blackberry bushes, gaze already roving over the most obvious injuries, trying to decide what to tackle first. she has no healing knowledge whatsoever, but that doesn't stop her from zeroing in on the bent hind-hock first. gritting her teeth, she decides that since it's bent, she'll merely have to push it back in place. she'll do it quickly. 

yowl gives away her position not a second later, and with racing heart she decides that she ought to leave that alone, for now.