Blacktail Deer Plateau It's dark it's cold it's winter

Junior stood at the plateau's edge, watching her father and Lasher down below. They appeared to be reconciling, which made her feel heartsick. After a few moments, she turned away and loped deeper into the forest. She tried to tell herself she didn't give a shit that her father had not bothered to check in with his own offspring. Yet tears blurred her vision and by the time she reached the old whelping den, they were streaming down her face even as great, hiccuping sobs wrenched loose from her chest.

She wasn't really aware of what she was doing. Abstractly searching for some sort of relief or release from the pain, she sought out a withering rosebush. There were no blossoms on it at this time of year yet the tangled brambles were still adorned with their thorns. Weeping loudly, Junior purposefully began lacerating her forelegs. There was something satisfying about the bloody cuts and the self-destruction she wrought upon herself.

By the time she stopped, too weary to continue, her legs were nothing but a bloody mess. Crying more softly but no less vehemently now, she curled into a ball, stuffing her mutilated legs beneath herself. They stung and throbbed, and all the while Junior thought viciously, Look what you made me do, dad. Look what you made me do!