Otter Creek the slowest spark is a breather

The stranger plodded nearer and Honey Badger's lip lifted slightly as she slouched closer to the ground once more. Peering out from behind the leaves of a low shrub, she kept an eye on the other she-wolf, reading her body language. It was pretty clear the other wolf sensed her presence, though it was even clearer that the stranger couldn't quite figure out the source, especially when she began to walk right into Honey Badger's little hideaway.

Realizing she had no other choice if she wanted to avoid being stepped on, she suddenly sat up straight and growled. Now the other wolf could make no mistake about her exact location. Her ears tilted backward and she glared, briefly baring her teeth. It was a warning only; she had no intention of attacking. She just couldn't stand having her personal space invaded. She'd taken enough of a battering and didn't need to be trampled too.

Of course, all of this movement caused a searing pain to burn in Honey Badger's stump of a tail. After shooting the stranger a dirty look, she folded herself in half to lick at the crusty wound. It was healing, for the most part, though the friable (not to be confused with fryable, ew) scabs smelled sort of funky. For the first time in her life, Honey Badger worried about infection. She was already down; an illness might actually take her out.