Fox's Glade familiar

@Faust <3

Blood trickled down her haunches, turning cold and congealed in her fur within seconds of touching the wintry air. Anathema chewed idly at a forepaw crusted in dark red-brown, hardly registering the itching feeling of wounds freshly bleeding. She'd stretched out beneath a barren tree to tend to herself.

As much as she could bear to, at least. Ana grimaced at her own raw pads, running her tongue over the torn skin with a faint whimper. She could hardly stand to look at her own wounds — much less let herself think about how they'd come to be.