Neverwinter Forest when the curtains call the time

Pangur had been sat in quiet reverence, letting the calm breeze roll through her fur, taking note of every scent on the wind, from the strong mark of wolf in the glen, the pines that surrounded them, to the feintest trace of deer somewhere far away. She prayed for an early spring, for bounty and for blessing; that Jörðnýr might smile upon them and give the gift of blooming flowers and melted snow. 

Iruna. She greeted in kind with a sweet grin and a flick of her tail, she was not the most familiar, but Pangur had been doing her research as of late, listening for which names matched with each form. Hers was a lovely one; the glow of dawn, of the rising sun; renewal all the same as that commanded by the god of seasons, such a title was fitting of the woman's beauty. She came to her with words of warm concern, eyes of pale lavender fell quickly to Pangur's leg in all its half-healed glory. 

Pangur gave no protest, she offered her foreleg to the expert. Outwardly, she had not let the ailment give her grief, but in secret? In the dark of her den? Oh it stung so so bad! Pangur was reminded of her own namesake, perhaps such a scar would be fitting. It feels alright! much much better than before. Do you think that it will leave a scar?