Deepwood Weald I'll unwrap my fingers, free my foot and run away

"No."  Her ears flattened, her lip terse.  Her steely gaze raked over the stranger for external injuries, though through the rain and fog she could see none.  

Ceara. She rested on her haunches, swept a paw over the air where ground should have been.  You're stuck?  A healthy wolf would have been able to clear the depression with ease, but maybe she had been hurt when she fell.

Who're you?