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

her chest tightened at the thought of using a stranger - nevermind one like the sun-girl - as a stepping stool, but she didn't allow herself to hesitate, not when she'd promised to be quick. finding purchase on the woman's back, she launched herself carefully at the edge of the pit. instinctively, her forelimbs scrabbled for grip, and this time, caught ground and pulled the rest of her up. 

unfortunately, however, her impaired forelimb heaved up a good portion of her weight, and under the strain gave easily. bitting her tongue to suppress a yelp, whatever had been faltering in her lower limb finally gave way with a crack. tail whipping through the air like a writhing snake, she squeezed out a strained "thank you" that overlapped the woman's own. "sorry," she added, the word just as strained.

it surprised her, seeing as she could not remember the last time she had apologized, not really. she supposed that made her a bad person. the lack of "sorry"s she'd uttered, however, paled in comparison to the fact that she'd mortally wounded her own father.