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It had been a few days since she somehow managed to stab herself, and while she wasn't as completely miserable as when she'd broken her paw all those months ago, she felt close to the same at times. She'd lurked around the rendezvous for the past while, often in the position she lay sprawled in now; leg sticking out awkwardly while the rest of her adopted a kind of sphinx position, tail tapping behind her anxiously. 

Twisting backward, she poked at the wound; it oozed yellowish fluid and the whole area felt warm; likely the beginning of an infection. The herbs had hed it off this long, but with a wound the size of her own, it would only take so long before some sort of infection crept in. Luckily for her, and with the season and Pema's care, this one was mild, and one she set to cleaning carefully with a furrowed brow, trying not to dislodge the mass of herbs the clung to the eyesore.