Hoshor Plains caught me in it's whirlwind, left me black and blue

Saarthal's eyelids flickered open. The sky was dark but a strange dark, a different sort of dark than she'd expected to see. As if all the normal colours of the sunset had been shifted a few shades darker or lighter and so everything looked about right, but also absurdly wrong. It took more than ten seconds before she realised that the somber bruised colour of the horizon was because of the sun rising rather than the sun setting, and a lump formed in the base of her throat. Saarthal ignored the constriction in her chest or the too-familiar pang striking at her breast and stumbled to her paws; she forced herself to walk, one paw after another, as if she could magically chase away the nagging thought curdling in her brain: that yesterday (yesterday?) she'd been overwhelmed with exhaustion, her limbs heavy and had settled down for a nap just a few hours before noon and now...
Her thoughts were cut short by a strange cacophony of noises; her hackles bristled, the guard hairs lining the length of her spine prickling as a rush of sickening anxiety flooded her veins. She considered turning around, uncharacteristically not in the mood for confrontation, but a wolfish scent flitted past her nostrils and Saarthal, ever so curious, found herself venturing forward. A few seconds later, the low curtain of plants parted to reveal a young wolfess, not even a year old tearing into a bunch of dead bracken. Saarth, shocked back in time by the scene, found herself staring at ten-month old Saarthal, angry and disillusioned, doing something similar. Except the dead bracken had been a living wolf and the consequences were- well, let's not get into that. "Hey," Saarthal said quietly, unable to keep the undercurrent of 'hey kid, i'm worried about you and the dead bracken but i don't want to infringe and frankly i don't know how to handle this and angry kids are scary but are you ok? from seeping into her tone. "What's going on?"