Fox's Glade [m] The ribbon on my wrist says:

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Depictions of self-harm and violence, mention of suicidal ideation

Selfish thoughts.

That was what she told herself when all her musings took a violent turn, when she could do nothing but picture herself in blood. Still the images came to her — as if she might find relief there, in that sort of pain. Or maybe what she wanted was to die, was that it?

No — no, she didn't think so.

But maybe it was a little late to be asking this question. Foxglove blinked down in a daze at the mess she'd made of herself, scarcely recalling even now how it had happened. Her mouth was red and wet, just like her forelegs. It still didn't make any sense.

Warmth dripped thickly from her gilded fur. She sat down hard in the snow, letting out a little gasp that broke quickly into a sob when she realized what she'd done. To herself. She'd done this to herself, and she didn't know how she would ever say that to Petal or Dahlia.

Maybe she was better off dead after all.