Herbalists' Cache bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang

Saarthal was beginning to think her previous perceptions of herself had been wrong. Because looking at the way things were going, it seemed pretty clear that she was a massive procrastinator. Procrastinating at joining a pack, procrastinating at socialising, procrastinating at life. When, when exactly had this become her? Where was the old her? The happy, easygoing, life is bad but still pretty freaking good her? Saarthal frowned and kicked, discontented, at the ground. The pain resulting from her semi-violent endeavour was not at all mild, but she supposed she deserved it, seeing as she was doing nothing but casually fucking up her life. Saar was so lost in her accusing thoughts that when she turned a corner, she smacked face-first into some furry wolfish body where she proceeded to mutter a confused 'wut' before losing her balance, falling rather unceremoniously onto the ground with a thud. "Ow."