Totoka River with lips made of glass

set some days after this. vague but written because i had the muse.

in the soft tresses of golden morning sunrise, praimfaya stirs awake to the realization that it is the first time since the fight in the bloodlet forest that she feels well rested. the improvement is a slight; a modicum of how she could feel but she takes it to be a good sign all the same. she blinks her eyes open slowly, consolation rushing through her like the gentle recede of the tide as she realizes that despite her uncertainty days before she has not lost the sight in her left eye. the woman only managed to damage the flesh around it, then. clear of the blood that agitated it previously; clotted and scabbing as it was, she can see out of it fine. to masquerade as if she wasn't afraid that would've been the case would be a blatant lie.

slowly, praimfaya stretches, testing ... not wishing to disturb her healing wounds, nor the meticulous work of the woman that ( had ) attend(ed) her during her darkest hours. she winces quickly at the slight pull of muscle beneath split flesh in her right shoulder and then again in her throat, more careful than to recoil ...as if she could draw away from it.

she smacks her lips together, noting the smarting along her muzzle and slowly, carefully, pushes herself to her paws, favoring her weight upon her right shoulder as she pads the short distance to the river's bank where she tries to bow her head to drink. it is a slow process, drawing a few stabs of pain; further as she laps at the cool water and the action of swallowing causes the wounds to smart again and again. she ignores it, pushes against and then past. her thirst is greater and by denying herself life essentials would be a disservice to the healers whom tended her.