Swiftcurrent Creek King rat on the streets in another life

I'm sore, Mae said stubbornly, finding herself fiercely opposed to any further use of her battered legs. Legs hurt. Head hurts. Bastard bit my leg.

The memory of it caused her lips to pull back in the silent beginnings of a snarl. Shoulda killed him. I coulda. Had him by the throat, Some of the adrenaline from earlier returned, and contrary to her protests, Mae struggled to her feet. The more she thought of the golden boy and the way he'd attacked her, the less she felt her pain. In its place, hate burned in her throat and her chest.