The Bracken Woods [m] marrow sliver

something had been shattered inside of red leaf.
the welts beneath her fur now began to bruise and scab, and were hardly visible beyond her thick ivory coat that acted as a concealer. in the passing days of travel, she kept mostly to herself; spoke only when spoken to, ate whatever scraps were provided, and prayed each night before she curled beside her husband.
by the time they found a new place to camp, her back ached dismally from the weight of their supplies, and the pads of her feet were calloused and well-worn. the crimson gaze was puffy and bloodshot, and her temples were being near constantly squeezed by a brutal, thundering pain.
she wonders now if this is not freedom at all, but a punishment.
i have heard of them, she mutters, gazing over her shoulder to watch cen's smouldering expression. she swallows hard. as far as she knew, he was right; the sharadoii held these superstitions close to their hearts, and red leaf felt her stomach churn with the fear of generations passed. why do you mention it?
was he only making conversation, or was he planning something?
either way, now was not the time to cross him. as he parts from her with quelled hunger, red leaf carries out her task of setting the pelts and the supplies. she tries to pretend that her paws are not trembling.