A thousand silhouettes

@Dante maybe?
Through the hurt she had wandered, aimlessly, with no destination in mind. Her paw was still bent at it's strange angle, clutched close to her chest as she stumbled on three legs. She wondered if she was to die like this, the result of a little fun from the dark fae, the one that carried the ominous stench of the dark woods in her fur, wore it like a prize. She remembered how that two had fought to be the one to 'play' with her, how she had only just gotten away with her life.

Behind her, she left a trail of blotched red, lesser so since when she had started her journey. The small silver fae's head was hung, tail lowered. She wanted to simply lay down and sleep. But something drove her on, the stubborn part of her that refused to be defeated. Easier, if she had just lay down and let them kill her. But no, she would not die until she felt she could.

The borders of another pack soon loomed before her, but she stumbled on, oblivious. It was only until she was more than 20 feet past the border when she stopped, swaying unsteadily. She crumpled to the ground, the strain to much for the tiny thing. Only the soft rise and fall of her prone figure indicated that the bloodied wolf was alive.