Flycatcher Downs You can tell

It was an odd time of year for Calfuray.

Back home she would have spent the season wandering with a man she would briefly take as a mate, holding him down until she disappeared in the spring; but now it was not so easy. She had always been a magnet for scars, but not like this. It hurt to look at herself. She missed her tail.

Her leg made her wary; a sore cut had led to a limp, but the Bearclaw wolves had made it far worse. A part of her blamed Rala. She feared that her fracture would not heal.

Soon she would need to get up, search for a meal; but the scarred woman did not have the energy to do so. Her confidence had been rocked, her ego poured onto the ground. She could not hunt, and she could not very well fight for a carcass.

What was to be done?