Sleeping Dragon i have watched holy men immolate on the banks of Nile

Portia had not been nearly as worried about the territory as Thuringwethil had been-- which is sad considering her calling as a naturalist. no matter though, because concerned or not it had to same effect on them both. the Skayona was gathering herbs, or trying to considering the season, when the ground was practically ripped from her feet. she was agile and genuinely very well balanced, but Portia was small and light-weight, very easily brought down. she hit the ground with a sickening crack, or pop, she couldn't hear over the sound of the mountain shaking in anger. 

she could barely hear her Heda's howl, and she tried to howl back but her voice was quite possibly drowned out by the quakes-- she couldn't tell. Portia needed to leave where she was, she knew this, but each time she moved to stand her legs were yanked from underneath her, and even if she managed to stand her left leg was completely useless, and each time she fell it only hurt more. frustrated and now terrified, tears welled in her eyes as continued to struggle to move anywhere. "i-i can't," she stammered, "i can't." 

she eventually resorted to a crawl, still toppling onto her sides often. she felt completely and utterly useless right now-- and the pain didn't help-- but she did at least drag herself closer to the north side of the territory.