Honeyed Pasture Water stings the lungs

She does not think she's touch upon deep bruises or, heavens forbid, ruptured discs; though undeniably weathered, her greyed ward was still hale in a manner that seemed hopeful. This was as evident as could be, mostly by the words which then bedded down upon patient ears; and now she must be an anchor, for however long;
so the stricken says no more, and as the shrouded she-wolf begins to shift her limbs beneath her, her pale shoulder found the weight of Gracious' sodden chest. Until she found the footing of her hinds, she would remain here to prop her up.

"Slowly,"  came the murmured omen, listless; felt the ragged, briney breath upon the back of her skull, but began to assist her as she could in rising all the same.