Wapun Meadow the book about my idle plot on a vague anxiety

The scent of blood reached her next. Mae stiffened, muzzle lifting and tilting slightly to and fro as she tried to discern the source. It was slight, at least. And the woman — no, girl, she seemed alright.

Raspberries? Mae's confusion was apparent. That why you're bleedin'? If the question was do you also want to bleed? then her answer was very much no, and I will not thank you for asking.